


running down to the riptide

by gingersprite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beach House, Childhood Friends, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Modern Westeros, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Summer Romance, surprise surprise i killed off ned, the mortifying ordeal of being in your twenties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersprite/pseuds/gingersprite
Summary: All Sansa Stark has been looking forward to is escaping to her family's beach house in White Harbor, hoping for some transformative experience that'll give her life direction and cure the grief she just can't shake.Enter Theon Greyjoy, local sailor bogged down by his own baggage; they'd been close, once, but things have changed, perhaps too much. Maybe they could be close again, if Sansa is willing to take a risk with her already fragile heart.
Relationships: Alannys Harlaw/Dagmer Cleftjaw - Relationship, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Grey Worm/Missandei, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 81
Kudos: 96
Collections: Theonsa Challenge





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Me, posting a new multichap when I still have another one unfinished? It's probably just as likely as you'd think. Tags will be updated as I go.
> 
> Title from "Riptide", by Vance Joy. For the July Theonsa challenge: the beach.

If she rolled her eyes any more, Sansa was certain they’d pop out of her head. It’d serve Arya right for abusing the aux cord, she thought grimly: see how she liked riding shotgun with an eyeball-less driver, that’d show her.

_“Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you, I drink too much and that's-”_

“Nope!”

_“Honey, I'd walk through fire for you-”_

“Ugh, trite!”

_“Tell me how's it feel sittin' up-”_

“Next!”

_“No fair, you really know-”_

“Blech!”

_“I'm a sucker for-”_

“Bo-o-ring!”

“Arya, just _pick_ something, or I swear I’ll take that phone and chuck it out the window!”

“That’d be stupid, seeing as it’s your phone,” Arya sniped back. “Teach you to have better taste in music.”

“ _My_ phone?”

“Yeah, you should really change your password bee-tee-dubs, you always use the same pin for everything, ‘five-two-three-nine’.”

“No, and stop hacking my shit. What’s wrong with your phone?” Sansa demanded. “And there’s nothing wrong with my music!”

“Sound on mine’s busted, dropped it at the skatepark one too many times. Should’ve gotten it fixed before we left but I never found the time.”

Sansa bit back a retort; already a throbbing pain had taken up residence in her left temple, sure to later turn into a full-blown stress headache. The two of them- three, if you counted Nymeria- would be the only ones at the beach house until their siblings and mother joined them, or they went crazy and killed each other. Whichever came first.

The Starks had been vacationing in White Harbor for as long as Sansa could remember; every summer, they’d pack up and leave the usual stress of work and school behind them. The beach house had become a sanctuary from real life, a way to unwind and recoup; most of Sansa’s best memories of her family took place there. Just imagining how that first step on the sandy ground would feel made the five hour drive from Winterfell almost bearable.

Normally, their parents had tried to make the long car ride into part of the vacation; Ned and the boys would take one car, while Cat took the girls and the dogs in the van. They’d blast their favorite movie soundtracks- instead of the droning audiobook narration of whatever subject Cat was researching for her latest book- and sing along until their throats hurt. Sansa learned how to drive along this very route; it was her first time driving longer than to the dance studio and back, and she’d been utterly terrified for the first three-quarters of the trip. But once they got close enough to smell the salt air, she’d finally been able to relax and enjoy the remainder of the drive.

But this wasn’t like past years, something which Nymeria sitting alone in the back made perfectly, painfully clear. This would be Sansa’s first time at the cottage without Lady. The first time since Dad-

The driver behind them gave a loud honk, jolting her back into focus, and Sansa realized she’d slipped far below the speed limit. The car swerved and passed them before she could get back up to speed.

“Prick,” she grumbled. Next to her Arya was strangely silent; usually she loved to cuss at other cars on the road. In fact, she even looked a bit pale. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Arya snapped. “Just focus on the bloody road so you don’t kill us both.”

“Only if you pick a song and actually stick with it.”

“… fine.” Arya skimmed through the song library a bit more before giving up on the phone entirely and digging around in the glove box for a CD. She hesitated a moment before popping one in the player. It started playing and Sansa recognized it as a mix the two of them had put together years ago, full of now-dated pop tunes that skipped from being dropped one too many times. But at least it was something, anything to keep her mind from spiraling off about how strange this summer would be. Arya seemed to calm down from whatever’d come over her just then, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, by the way,” she said begrudgingly, “for driving with me.”

Arya shrugged, fiddling with the end of her faded purple braid. She’d come back over winter break with her dark hair bleached and dyed a violent shade of purple, which had since faded to a softer lilac; Sansa figured if this was Arya’s way of acting out then it wasn’t successful, because although Cat seemed rather annoyed by the color, she hadn’t scolded her even once. 

“S’not like I have any other way there, but you’re welcome.” In the backseat, Nymeria whined. “Nym says thanks too.”

Sansa glanced in the rearview mirror at where the massive wolfdog was sprawled out over their duffle bags, having made herself perfectly at home. “Well, she’s very welcome.”

“She also says you’ve got shit taste in music.”

The pounding in her temple picked up again. Only three hours to go…

\---

They’d just reached the town outskirts when Arya insisted they stop so she could pee; Sansa had been tempted to tell her to just hold it until they got to the house, but then Nymeria started to do her ‘if-you-don’t-let-me-out-this-second-I-will-piss-all-over-your-car’ whine. Sansa relented on the condition that they wait until they got to the craft market instead of stopping on the side of the road (because she had no interest in finding herself in a B-flick horror movie, thank you). The wolfdog looked back at Sansa in the mirror, her expression undeniably smug. Arya and Nymeria had always been scarily in tune with each other, just like she’d been with Lady. Sansa tried not to feel bitter about that, with only moderate success.

With the sun going down the market had closed for the day, but there were still vendors milling around packing up their wares. Arya was out the door before Sansa had fully put the car in park, dashing off to the park office in search of a bathroom leaving Sansa to deal with Nymeria. Predictably, now that they’d actually stopped Nymeria was much less interested in doing her business than she was in sniffing around the market stalls. 

“Typical,” Sansa muttered, giving Nymeria’s leash plenty of slack while loitered around the edges of the market place. It was only about a half hour’s drive out from town, but the Starks had always stopped here; first because they had several young children and dogs that invariably needed to take a pee break, then because it just became tradition. One of the regular vendors had sold lemons with peppermint sticks stuck in them like straws: the acidity of the lemon would hollow out the center of the stick like a straw so you could suck up the juice, the tart of the lemon melding with the sharp sugar of the peppermint. It was a treat she and her dad always shared. Briefly she considered getting one while she waited for Arya, but it looked like the produce vendors had already left.

Sansa looked around the colorful stalls, hoping to at least get in some decent people watching. There were a couple familiar signs advertising vendors who’d been selling there for years, but almost none of the figures milling around belonged to anyone she recognized- except for one, a woman about her mother’s age with grey curls, wearing a tie-dyed muumuu. Before Sansa could decide whether to say anything, the other woman spotted her and broke into a wide grin.

“As I live and breathe, is that little Sansa Stark?”

She ducked her head somewhat bashfully, tugging Nymeria away from whatever smell she was focused on and walking over to where the woman was packing up. “Hi, Ms. Harlaw, it’s nice to see you.” Alannys Harlaw had always insisted that the Stark kids call her by her first name, but somehow Sansa could never manage it. Which wasn’t to say that she wasn’t nice or Sansa didn’t like her- quite the opposite, in fact- it was just too weird to call her childhood friend’s mother by her first name. 

Alannys gave a soft, maternal tut and pulled Sansa down into a hug. She smelled like sandalwood with a hint of fading sunscreen, and wore numerous necklaces and bangles that clinked when she moved. When Alannys pulled back to study her with laughing grey eyes, her smile was just as warm as Sansa remembered.

“Still so polite as ever!” she exclaimed. “My goodness you got tall, you look just like your mother. Where is she?”

“Ah, it’s just me and Arya, for now,” Sansa explained. “Rickon’s in summer school so Mum’s gotta stay back for a bit. But she says she needs to finish some work anyways, so it’s cool.” Sansa desperately hoped Alannys wouldn’t ask what work was so important that Catelyn couldn’t be here with her daughters.

“What about your brothers?”

Ticking them off on her fingers as she went, she said, “Jon has an internship, Robb’s got work, and Bran’s working at this summer camp.”

“That sounds wonderful, I’m so glad Bran’s keeping busy!” And oh no, there it was; the look. That pitying look, the one that was always followed by the usual empty platitudes: ‘we were all so shocked to hear about the accident, poor Bran, and your father…’

Thankfully Arya decided to show up just then and Sansa was saved from having to hear any more.

“Alannys!” Arya squealed, barreling over and flinging her arms around the older woman with such gusto Alannys actually stumbled back.

“Arya, look at you!” she said, laughing at the girl’s exuberance. “No, look at that _hair!_ ”

Arya laughed and tossed her head around so the loose strands around her face shook. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I _love_ it!” Alannys declared. 

“Yeah? I did it myself.” Arya couldn’t help but preen a little at the praise, so different from Cat’s reactions to her hair. But then, the two women had little in common on the surface: a renowned history professor at a prestigious university, and an eccentric artist from a long line of watermen who lived on a houseboat.

“Really? Oh that’s just fantastic sweetling, are you still doing art?”

“I hope so, seeing as I decided to major in it,” Arya quipped. 

Sansa shifted awkwardly as she watched them talk, not sure how to join in or if she’d even be welcome to. She’d always been known as the polite one, but it was Arya who actually knew how to talk to people and make them like her. The difference between being friendly and having friends, Sansa guessed.

“Well girls, this has been lovely, but I’d better head home before Dagmer worries something’s happened to me,” Alannys said, looking over at her packed up car. Glancing up at the sky, Sansa was surprised by how dark it had gotten in just the short time they’d been stopped. They walked Alannys over to her car and helped her make sure the last of her boxes were secure. “But we must have you over for lunch, and then you can tell me all about what you’ve been doing! I’m sure Theon will be happy to see you both.”

“Theon’s around?” Sansa blurted out. She didn’t know how she felt about that, or what to make of her sudden outburst. She hadn’t talked to Theon since the accident, but there’d been a time where he was a staple of their summers at White Harbor. Growing up, Theon and the older Stark boys had been joined at the hip, tearing around the town and spending hours out on the water. In truth Sansa had a bit of a crush on him as a kid, but a three year age difference was a lot when you were a teen and she didn’t want to be that clichéd little sister crushing on her brothers’ friend, so she’d done her best to bury that crush deep down.

It also surprised her that he’d still be hanging around at home instead of elsewhere. She’d been expecting him to be off doing other things, like most of her White Harbor friends or even her brothers. Part of her wanted to ask Alannys why he’d stuck around, though she quickly decided that would be too awkward.

“Yes, he’s working down at the wharf this summer. I’ll tell him you two are in town,” she offered.

Sansa immediately tried to backpedal, saying, “oh you don’t have to do that, I’m not even sure when Robb and Jon will be able to get time off-” but Alannys cut her off, bracelets clinking as she waved a hand haphazardly.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble,” she said fondly. “Now, drive safe and we’ll talk tomorrow, darlings.”

They watched Alannys drive off until her taillights disappeared, then got back into their own car and continued on.

\---

Despite having been empty for three years, the beach house was still in pretty good condition. Catelyn had a caretaker check up on it every now and then, with the assumption always that ‘this summer would be the one’ they’d all be back. They parked the van and Sansa shot off a text to Cat letting them know they’d made it, then started unloading their duffels. She opted to leave their bicycles in the back for now, while Arya went on ahead to let Nymeria into the fenced yard. When Sansa made her way to the front door, she was surprised to see that the front steps had been replaced with a ramp; it made sense that Cat would have had the house made accessible in preparation for Bran, but it was still a stark reminder of what had changed.

Inside, however, was exactly as Sansa remembered leaving it: the floorboards at the entrance scuffed by sandy feet and dappled with saltwater stains; the couches and chairs with their mismatched throw pillows, covered with plastic protectors; every surface covered with knick-knacks they’d made or found while combing the beach. It was still neat and tidy but it had a cozy lived-in feel, the sort that came when a building had been loved for years.

Next to the door was a set of hooks with the bedroom keys neatly hung beneath all their names. At first there’d just been the master bedroom and the girl’s room, leaving the boys to sleep on the couches, but then Bran and later Rickon came along and they’d finally had the two extra rooms added on. Even then, the kids often slept outside in sleeping bags, so they could stay up late sitting around the fire pit competing over who could tell the scariest story.

 _‘Robb & Jon’, ‘Sansa & Arya’, ‘Bran & Rickon’, ‘Cat & Ned’_, the sign read, the cursive letters of their names all painted in her dad’s steady hand. Sansa plucked her room key from the hook, forcing herself not to linger on Ned's name.

The bedroom she shared with Arya was less personalized than their rooms back home, though there were still hints of their interests here and there; copies of their favorite books, extra drawing paper and pencils, stuffed animals neither had played with in years but couldn’t bear to get rid of. On the small dresser by her bed, there was a picture of her and Ned out on a sailboat; Sansa quickly put it away in the desk drawer before she could think twice about it, then got to work unpacking her bedding and setting up her side of the room for the night. She’d unpack the rest of her belongings in the morning once she’d recovered from the long drive.

Back out in the lounge, Arya had sprawled out on the couch, the dust covers strewn around the floor. She’d pulled out her laptop and was swiping through the files furiously, presumably trying to figure out what were the best pieces to show Alannys. Or, maybe she was already trying to coordinate plans with her boyfriend Gendry, who lived in White Harbor but went to the same university as Arya; they hadn’t seen each other since the semester ended, and even though she tried to hide it, it was obvious Arya was desperate to see her boyfriend in person. Nymeria had wolfed down her food- no pun intended- after not being fed breakfast in preparation for the long car ride, and was now doing her best interpretation of a shag carpet. Sansa carefully stepped around her and plucked up the dust covers, doing her best to mash them into something resembling a fold.

“Hey what’dya want to do for dinner, I’m starving,” Arya piped up when she noticed Sansa.

“Hmmm…” Sansa drew it out, like there was really any question about where they were going to go their first night in White Harbor. Usually they tried to at least get the essentials for the bare bones kitchenette, but she didn’t have it in her to make a grocery run. “How about… Marya’s?”

Arya broke into a wide grin. “Marya’s.”

\---

The girls rode their bicycles into town rather than take the van. Ma Marya’s Diner was the sort of establishment that could be called retro, except it hadn’t been styled that way, it was simply old enough to have seen multiple style changes before eventually abandoning trying to keep up with the times. As such it exuded a liminal sort of energy; you could spend hours in there without feeling like any time had passed.

They locked their bikes up and stepped inside, the tinkling bell above the door heralding their arrival. Behind the counter, a busboy noticed their arrival. His eyes lit up and he started waving furiously.

“Arya!” he shouted, looking momentarily embarrassed for being loud, though the other customers didn’t seem the least bit concerned by the noise. Arya grinned and strolled over to the counter, Sansa trailing behind.

“Hey Devan, lookit you working all by yourself,” she said, hopping up on a stool. The boy blushed under the praise.

“S’not so hard. Also, Hot Pie’s workin’ the grill, and Mum’s back doing inventory,” he explained. Then he noticed Arya wasn’t alone and added, as an afterthought, “oh, hi Sansa.”

“Hi Devan,” she tried, but he was already off finding them menus, chatting with Arya all the while. Sansa resisted the urge to pull out her phone and text her White Harbor friends to see if they’d had a sudden change in plans and would be available. The Manderly sisters were staying on their uni campuses to do work, and Mya was doing a field school out of the country; Myranda was travelling visiting family but said she might be back in town this summer, though she made no promises.

Resentment burned in her throat as she looked over the menu while Arya chatted and laughed with a kid she barely knew, acting for all the world like they were old friends. That had always been the way, Arya making friends wherever she went while Sansa struggled to hold on to the few friends she had. She found she missed Jeyne and Beth fiercely, whereas in previous years she was usually too wrapped up in vacation fun to feel homesick; she even missed Margaery, despite having grown distant with her college roommate since she started dating Robb. What in the hells was wrong with her, she wondered, watching how easily Arya conversed with Devan, then the couple seated next to her at the counter.

Sansa ordered a simple combo, more interested in speed than anything else. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could openly wallow in how pathetic she felt right now. While they waited for their order to be filled, she noticed the jukebox wasn’t playing. The song selection was limited and the sound always came out a little tinny, but it was an essential part of the diner’s atmosphere and it felt wrong to be sitting here without it playing. She wandered over and started perusing the song list, fishing in her purse for a coin; she was about to drop the coin in the slot when a voice stopped her.

“Don’t waste your money, dearie, that old hunk of junk hasn’t worked in over a year.” It was Marya Seaworth, still wearing her work polo and nametag like anyone in town didn’t know who she was. 

“Hi Marya.” Sansa let the older woman pull her into a hug.

“It’s so good to see you girls. How are you doing?” she asked. Sansa reached for the usual bland response, the ‘I’m fine’ that satisfied people enough to move on, but something gave her pause this time. There was something warm and understanding in Marya’s eyes that made it difficult to pretend.

She stammered out, “I-I…”

The smile Marya gave her was tinged with melancholy. “That’s okay, sweetling. You don’t have to be alright.” Sansa was reminded that Marya’s eldest son Dale had died in a fishing accident several years ago; she knew better than most how it felt.

“Does it…” Her voice wavered. “Does it ever stop hurting so much?”

Marya hummed thoughtfully. “No,” she said at last. “But you learn to live with it.” She patted her cheek, leaving a smear of flour behind. 

“Now, it looks like Devi’s got your order up, so go tuck in. I’ve gotta go relieve Hot Pie.” 

Sansa gave a weak smile but did as she was told. Arya had moved from the counter over to an empty booth and was already half done with her meal. Sansa settled into the bench across from her and started eating. She was busy smothering her hash browns in catsup when Hot Pie came out from behind the counter; though apparently finished with his shift, his eyes lit up when he spotted Arya waving him over.

“Hiya guys, how goes it?” he asked, slipping into the booth on Arya’s side. “How was the drive?”

“Super long,” Arya complained around her mouthful of food, drawing the word out for emphasis. “An’ Nym’s been cooped up in the van all day without a proper walk, so she’s gonna be a proper terror tonight.”

“Aw, I don’t blame her,” Hot Pie chuckled. “Hey Sansa, what new tricks has Lady learned? Dev didn’t believe me when I told him all the tricks she can do, you gotta show him-”

“Lady’s dead.” The words came out much sharper than she meant them to, but it was too late to take them back. All the delicious food she’d just eaten turned to concrete in her stomach at the look on poor Hot Pie’s face, and she scrambled to do damage control. “I’m sorry, that was mean. You didn’t know.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m sorry to hear that, she was a really great dog,” he said sympathetically.

“Thanks.”

The bell over the door tinkled, announcing a new customer, and Arya sat bolt upright at the sight of whoever entered. Sansa was seated with her back to the door and had to turn to see, and in that time Arya was scrambling over Hot Pie and racing over to them. It turned out to not be a customer at all but Gendry.

“Thought he wasn’t going to be back in town for a few more days,” Sansa muttered, turning back to her plate. She actually really liked Gendry, but him being here threw what few plans she had for this summer completely out of whack; things had been so strained between her and Arya for so long now, she’d been hoping to use this time to reconnect, just the two of them.

“He actually managed to get off early, but he wanted it to be a surprise,” Hot Pie said.

Of course he did, Sansa thought. Because that was just the sort of thoughtful boyfriend Gendry was, damn him. Watching how Arya practically vibrating with happiness in his presence, Sansa couldn’t bring herself to be mad. Though would it really hurt them to back off on the PDA just a little?

Finally coming back up for air, Arya suddenly remembered other people besides Gendry existed. She dashed back to the booth to snatch up her phone and bag.

“Gendry and I are gonna go hang out, don’t wait up!” she called over her shoulder, not waiting for a response before hurrying out the door. That left just Sansa and Hot Pie, and judging by the way Hot Pie was shifting in his seat, he was about to leave too.

“Well I guess I’d better get home now,” he said awkwardly. “Good seeing you. And hey, we’ve still got some lemon pie, if you're interested. Bye, I guess!”

Sansa waved her goodbyes to him, then looked down at the cold, congealed mess the rest of her meal had become. That lemon pie sounded awful good, she thought, and flagged down Devan to add a slice to her order. The tangy sweetness eased the bitter feeling in her throat, the cool creamy filling melting in her mouth just like always; at least some things stayed the same.

After she’d finished the piece and paid for her and Arya’s orders, Sansa biked back to the house alone. Nymeria was still fast asleep when she entered and barely twitched when Sansa let the door bang shut behind her, or while she struggled to find a place to put the bike in the lounge, scraping her shin in the process. She ended up leaning it against an overflowing bookshelf behind one of the couches.

Despite the beach house ostensibly being a no-work zone, there was evidence of her parents’ scholarly work all over the place. Books on the Ghiscari wars and the Rhoynar migration, comparative studies of the major Braavosi religions, multiple volumes devoted to studying the Blackfyre rebellions from every imaginable angle. Most of the books either featured essays by her parents, or had been used by them as sources. One in particular caught her eye, the title embossed along the spine in fancy lettering: _‘A History of Wartime Ethics,’_ by Eddard Stark, PhD, ThD.

Before she could decide whether to take it down from the shelf, someone rapped at the door. She paused, her finger hovering just on the edge of the book; the knocking continued, finally startling Nymeria awake. It must have been Arya, realizing she’d forgotten something. That had better be the case, Sansa thought, because if Arya thought she’d put up with being sexiled on their first night there then she had another thing coming.

Sansa took her sweet time walking back to the door, letting herself indulge just a little in making her sister wait. “Arya, don’t tell me you’ve already forgot your key-” She threw open the front door, fully expecting to see Arya waiting there sheepishly. 

Instead, she came face to face with Theon Greyjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs Arya nixes are, in order, "Closer" (the Chainsmokers ft. Halsey), "Adore You" (Harry Styles), "Without Me" (Halsey), "Ocean Eyes" (Billie Eilish), and "Sucker" (Jonas Brothers).
> 
> Peppermint lemons or lemon peppermint sticks are a real thing you can make; they're also more commonly called Baltimore lemon sticks, though it's not clear where exactly they originated. If you want to make them, be sure to use actual peppermint sticks and not candy canes (yes, there is a difference!)
> 
> Additionally, the term "watermen" here refers to the New England version, i.e. people who make their living fishing, crabbing, and oystering, _not_ smugglers!


	2. Reconnection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PBS Announcer Voice*: this chapter brought to you by "cardigan" by Taylor Swift played on an endless loop for hours.

There was a hideously uncomfortable moment where they each stared blankly at the other. Theon had always been cute, even when he was an awkward kid with gangly limbs and patchy facial hair, but now he was definitely handsome. 

Scratch that, he was _hot_. His stubble now seemed artful rather than lazy, and as far as his limbs went, well, he’d clearly grown into them, arms and legs long and tanned and sinewy from years out on the water. Sansa tried not to stare, with minimal success; she could practically feel his eyes looking her up and down. She found she didn’t mind it, though ideally she would’ve preferred to be dressed nicer than an old cardigan over a tank and running shorts with her travel-greasy hair slapped back in a ponytail.

“Hey Sans, been a while,” he said easily after a moment. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” she laughed. “So, just couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow to see me?” 

Theon raked a hand through his hair, dark curls windswept like he’d just stepped off a boat; he’d gotten a tattoo on his forearm at some point, an anchor with an octopus wrapped around it, and it was just so _Theon_ she felt something catch in her chest. 

“My mum had me bring over some instant coffee for you guys, since she figured you probably didn’t have any for tomorrow.” Then she noticed he had a canvas tote in his other hand, painted with Alannys’ distinctive art-deco style, and the flirtatious bubble she’d felt growing burst. So this was just her mother’s friend checking up on her and Arya, maybe even at Cat’s request, not Theon trying to get some one-on-one time with her.

Theon looked at her expectantly, but when she said nothing back he continued on. “I know, it’s shite, but I also know how you Starks get without caffeine so…” Still trying to shake the embarrassment, Sansa took the peace offering for what it was.

“Do you want some tea?” she offered. Never let it be said that Sansa Stark didn’t know how to take care of unexpected guests.

“Not even here five minutes and you’re already offering me tea. Nice to see some things never change,” he teased. She rolled her eyes and invited him inside with a wave that was more casual than she really felt.

Even though they hadn’t gone shopping yet, Sansa knew there’d be some tea tucked away in the cabinets for the caretaker courtesy of Catelyn- after all, she was her mother’s daughter- and stale tea was better than no tea. Theon moved about the kitchen like he lived there, putting the instant coffee in a cabinet and the creamer in the fridge. He pulled out two mugs for them while she found the kettle, rinsed out the dust, then filled it up and set it on the burner. The finicky old stove wouldn’t start, which wasn’t unusual after going a long period without use, so she rummaged through the cabinets looking for the matches.

“Here, I got it.” Theon pulled out a lighter from his pocket and helped her start the burner.

Sansa wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Ew, don’t tell me you smoke now.”

Theon laughed. “Nah, it’s just good to have on hand. Sailor’s trick. Never know when I’ll need it to whip a frayed line.”

He set the kettle to boil, then leaned casually against the counter. Sansa found herself doing the same, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t mimicking him.

“So,” he drawled. “Mum says it’s just you and Arya Underfoot for a bit.”

“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” she warned.

“Please, I’m not _that_ stupid. Where’s she at anyways?”

“Out with Gendry.” Sansa felt her lip curl into a sneer; she knew it was unbecoming, but after hours of forced civility it was a relief to finally just give in. “Not bad enough my mum and brothers ditched me for their own shit, she had to as well.”

Theon hummed lightly. “That’s pretty cool though, that Bran’s working at a summer camp. He’s a counselor?”

“Yeah, it’s this camp for kids with disabilities. But honestly I think he’s only doing it to impress this cute boy with CP.” Bran and Jojen shared the same physical therapist, and ever since they’d met Bran had been googly-eyed over the other boy.

“Well shit, good for him.”

The conversation halted, the two of them lapsed into silence while they waited for the water to heat. The silence should have been uncomfortable but it wasn’t. There was no pressure to maintain polite conversation or put on airs; slowly, Sansa felt the knot in her gut begin to uncoil.

The kettle whistled cheerfully and she got to work fixing their tea. Mugs in hand, she led him out through to the patio. The night air was just this side of chilly and carried with it the tangy smell of saltwater. Just a few feet away, they could see the ocean waves lapping against the rocky shore. The patio’s wicker furniture had been packed away to protect it from the elements, so they grabbed pillows from the couch to sit on and plopped them down on the cobblestones. Nymeria- who had been conspicuously absent earlier- slipped out with them and padded over to settle at Theon’s side.

“Hey big girl,” Theon murmured, scratching between her ears with his free hand. Nymeria preened, her tail thumping against the stones. “Just you and the girls?”

“Just us,” Sansa confirmed. Nymeria wasn’t used to being the only dog, they’d probably have to take her on extra-long walks to keep her from eating the couch out of boredom. She blew lightly across her mug as she stared off into the distance, thinking about all the years past when the house had been full of people and dogs.

“I’m sorry, by the way. About Lady,” he said after a moment. Having spent the whole day steeling herself for more condolences about Ned, she hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” she managed, taking a sip of tea so she didn’t have to say more. 

“Robb told me about what happened, I meant to text you but things came up, and then…” He didn’t need to go on: she’d barely had time to process Lady’s untimely death before the accident, and after a dead father and crippled brother took precedence. It might’ve been a few years late, but she appreciated his words. It made her feel less foolish that out of all she’d lost recently it was a stupid dog she cried over the most.

“That was a rough year,” she said at last. Desperately searching for a subject change, she continued, “so, what’ve you been up to since I last saw you?”

“Rehab,” he answered smoothly, as easily as if he’d said ‘work’ or ‘school’.

 _Shit._ What in the _hells_ was she supposed to say to that?

“Mood.”

 _‘No!’_ her brain shrieked, _‘why the fuck would you say that?’_ The word had fallen from her lips before she could catch it; saying nothing at all would’ve been better.

Theon blinked, startled. “You too?”

Immediately she tried to backpedal. “I-I… no, no. That was so stupid, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” she babbled. He stared at her, then burst into laughter.

“Still got that same kooky sense of humor, huh Stark?” he teased. She let out a breathy laugh, relieved that she hadn’t ruined everything.

“I guess so. Can I ask- sorry, that’s completely inappropriate.”

“Nah, s’fine.” He stretched out his left leg and gestured to the long scar, the ropey skin silvery in the moonlight. “Fractured my femur- it was a boating accident, real nasty. Afterwards everyone kept trying to get me to slow down, pace myself, but I kept pushing. I just wanted to get back out there; so I ended up getting addicted to the painkillers. Then once the prescription was up I moved on to harder stuff.”

Sansa was dumbfounded, both to learn what Theon had been through and by how easily he revealed it to her. It had been more than three years since her father died and she could still barely bring herself to even think about it most days, let alone talk about it in that level of detail.

“That’s… damn. But, you’re okay now? Er, better?” She felt a desperate urge to hold his hand, but let her fingers white-knuckle around her mug instead.

“One year sober, next month.” He sounded almost surprised by his own words, like eleven months was an eternity; Sansa supposed it was, when every day was a battle against your worst impulses.

“I don’t think I would’ve had the strength,” she confessed.

He snorted derisively. “Believe me, I didn’t either. It was Yara who realized I was spiraling and gave me the kick in the ass I needed to get help. And my mum and Dag, they were amazing.”

“I’m glad you had them. Do you get some sort of chip next month?”

“Yup, there’s a whole ceremony and everything.” Theon rolled his eyes at that and she caught a glimpse of the callous boy he’d been; clearly he didn’t think much of the coming event, but Sansa thought he deserved to be congratulated for how far he’d come.

“Can I go?” she asked hesitantly; he looked surprised so she quickly covered, saying, “me and everyone else, I mean.”

“I’d like that.” Theon smiled at her softly, those sea green eyes lit bright by the lamp behind them, and she was helpless not to smile back. 

“So! Enough about my trauma, what’ve you been up to? Are you still writing those stories?”

“You remember those?” Sansa thought about the thick stack of old notebooks under her bed, full of snatches of half-finished stories she’d written while lounging on the beach, completely absorbed in her words.

“Course, you were always scribbling in those notebooks every chance you got!”

She flushed at that; Arya and Bran had always teased her for writing instead of getting into whatever mischief they were up to, but she hadn’t thought Theon ever noticed. He was always too busy with Robb and Jon to pay her much mind.

“I’ve been accepted into a master’s in literature program,” she admitted hesitantly. “At Highgarden. It starts in the fall.”

“Hey, that’s awesome, kid!” he cheered. He knocked his shoulder companionably against hers and a shiver ran through her at his touch; it was the same casual gesture he’d use with her brothers. Not only that, he’d called her ‘kid’, like she might call Rickon. It reminded her that Theon was Robb and Jon’s friend, not hers, and the thought sucked away whatever warmness their conversation had brought her. No matter how nice and comfortable they were talking now, to Theon she was still just his friends’ little sister.

She pulled her thin cardigan tighter around her body, closing herself off to his touches and looks. “Yes well, I haven’t decided whether I’ll be accepting it or not,” she sniffed. Her family needed her at home, what with Bran’s continued recovery and Rickon’s chronic truancy, and her mother always so, _so_ damn busy at her work. She couldn’t just take off and start another degree she didn’t even know what she’d do with; the only reason she’d even applied was to appease her nagging advisor.

“What? Why not?” he demanded.

“It’s a big decision, and I’m not sure it’s right for me,” she snapped back. “And I don’t tell you how to live your life, so kindly leave off about mine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, empty mug dangling hooked around his thumb. “Alright, alright, point made.” On his other side Nymeria whined lowly and he gave her a reassuring pat. Sansa could kick herself; why, gods, why did she have to get so damn prickly sometimes?

“Look, obviously this is a big deal, and we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he tried again. “How’s about we go out on the water tomorrow? We’ll get a dinghy from the harbor and just take her out for a couple hours, get your mind off shit.”

Sansa finally looked back at him; his eyes were still just as warm and open as they were before she fucked everything up.

“I-I…” There was a flash of something across his face, the corner of his lip twitching, and whatever she might have been about to say was lost forever. The way he was looking at her, so damn sincere, it would just be too easy to say yes and let herself imagine he could want her that way. “Arya and I’ve got loads of work to do tomorrow, lots of unpacking and grocery shopping. So I probably won’t be free tomorrow.”

It was transparent as all hell, but Theon had the grace not to call her out on it. She tried not to be disappointed by that.

“It’s cool, no worries,” he said evenly, then got to his feet. “Anyways, you’ve got the coffee and I got some puppy-time, so my work here is done.” 

“Yes,” she said tersely. “I guess you’d better go home now.” They stared at each other, him patiently, her defiantly, then he turned and loped back into the house. Nymeria jumped up and chased after him, and after a moment Sansa followed them inside. They left their dirty mugs in the sink then she walked him to the door. On the way she remembered the tote bag and went to go get it, but Theon waved her off.

“My mum still insists on having you both over for dinner, you can give it back then,” he offered. Sansa narrowed her eyes; that was a dirty trick, bringing up his mother like that. There wasn’t a person in White Harbor who could deny Alannys Harlaw anything, and he bloody well knew it. “And hey, you’re gonna be here for ages, we’ll have plenty of chances to sail. Just lemme know tomorrow if anything changes, you’ve got my number.” 

Then he was out the door, and it was just Sansa and Nymeria in the old empty house. A part of her wanted to run after him, but she quashed that urge like a bug. She went to her room and flopped down on her bed, thinking about his offer and the way he’d said it, like he was so sure she’d give in.

‘If anything changes,’ he’d said. 

_‘Unlikely,’_ Sansa thought haughtily. She didn’t need anyone’s pity, least of all Theon Greyjoy’s.

\---

When morning came she was still sprawled lengthwise across the mattress, fully clothed and on top of her blankets. She felt particularly grimy, and she suspected she didn’t smell much better. Looking over, the bed on the other side of the room was still bare, signaling that Arya hadn’t come back last night. Sansa checked her phone and, sure enough, she had one text from her sister, sent around two in the morning.

**Arya Stark (2:13 a.m.): [staying at gendrys]**

Full stop, no elaboration. At least one of them was having some fun. She sent a text back, saying only _‘breakfast at Marya’s, meet you there?’_ Who knew when Arya would see it what with her sound broken- assuming she was even awake yet- so Sansa decided to clean up while she waited. As she made her way to the house’s single bathroom, she acknowledged that at least she’d only have to share with one other person, instead of six. Gods knew Jon could spend ages fussing over his hair in front of the bathroom mirror.

After showering she made a cup of terrible instant coffee then drank it while wandering around the house in a towel, allowing herself to enjoy having the place to herself. She’d never so much minded being alone as she minded being lonely, or so she always told herself. At times like this it was easier to do so rather than dwell on how much she envied Arya’s ability to make friends everywhere.

It wasn’t much longer before Arya replied:

**Arya Stark (7:45 a.m.): [k]**

It was so predictably her sister it almost made her laugh. She took her time getting ready, rummaging through her duffle for clothes and got dressed, then threw her damp hair in a loose braid to dry. Nymeria was whining to go outside, so Sansa let her out and filled her doggy dish before biking into town.

White Harbor in the early morning was always beautiful, especially on a day like this where the sky was a light blue with just enough cloud cover to keep the sun out of your eyes. She rode through the town’s cobbled square at a leisurely pace, slowing down when she passed the statue of Old Fishfoot. The stone merling with its distinctive lichen-covered beard was a popular icon for local tourism brochures and souvenirs; one of the three prongs on his trident had broken long ago but the city council had opted not to repair it. Something about ‘preserving the local heritage’ or whatever. Sansa thought it was rather trite, but it must’ve appealed to Arya’s artistic sensibilities because she often liked to sketch it. The decorative lampposts lining the walk had been doused already, but when evening came their light made the fountain water sparkle as it flowed.

The diner was already bustling with the early morning rush when she parked her bike outside. The youngest Seaworth boys, twins Stannis and Steffon, were on busboy duty, weaving between customers gingerly while carrying stacks of dirty dishes almost as tall as they were. Arya and Gendry were at the booth in the back, sitting cozily beside each other on the same bench. They didn’t seem to notice her approach, completely wrapped up in their own world; Arya looked so much softer without the usual tough-girl exterior she wrapped herself in, giggly and slightly rumpled in a way Sansa definitely did _not_ want to think about. 

She plastered a smile on and slipped into the bench across from them. “I’m surprised to see you guys here, usually I’m the one who shows up early!”

“To be fair, we had a shorter trip,” Gendry explained. “Marya and Davos are letting me rent the apartment upstairs when I’m not at school.”

“Too bad you’ve gotta share it with Matthos and Maric. Zero privacy!” Arya complained. Sansa refused to think about why they’d need said privacy. “But seriously, what took you so long? We’ve already ordered.”

“Huh, guess I’d better catch up.” Sansa swiveled in her seat and was about to wave down one of the twins when Arya interrupted, pushing an extra cup of coffee her way.

“Nah, I already ordered for you, don’t worry. Waffles with strawberries and crème, right?”

Oh, she hadn’t been expecting that. Maybe it was a little impolite to order for someone else without asking, but Arya knew what she liked and Sansa was a creature of habit, always ordering waffles and strawberries for her first breakfast every time they were in White Harbor. She recognized it as Arya’s form of a peace offering after ditching her last night, and decided to take it.

As she set about doctoring her coffee to her liking, she asked, “so what were you two giggling over just now?”

“Just some joke, you wouldn’t get it,” Arya said flippantly. “We were talking to Alannys and Dagmer before, you just missed them. She still wants to have us over to their place.”

A boy who was either Stannis or Steffon- it was nearly impossible to tell which, especially when they were dressed in their identical café polos- arrived with their plates. Sansa immediately dove into her breakfast, not aware of how hungry she’d been until food was right in front of her.

“So,” Arya drawled through her mouthful of breakfast burrito. “Alannys also mentioned that Theon came over to the house last night.”

Sansa paused mid-bite, a bead of maple syrup caught on her lip. “He did,” she said tersely. 

“And?”

“His mum just wanted him to bring over some instant for us.”

“She says he must’ve been gone over an hour, that’s an awful long time just to bring by coffee.”

“Well he also brought creamer, so.” She took another bite, studiously ignoring Arya for as long as possible, until her stare became overwhelming. “All we did is talk a bit, that’s it! He’s got this thing coming up next month, I said we’d all go.” Sansa hesitated to say any more; it felt wrong to repeat what Theon had shared with her without asking his permission.

“Yeah, his one year sober,” Gendry said. Sansa tried unsuccessfully not to let her disappointment show, a part of her had _thought-_ but of course not, he’d already established that wasn’t their relationship. Theon was just the sort of guy who was open about those things, he’d probably already told Robb and Jon and assumed they told her too.

“And that’s all?” Arya asked dubiously.

“That’s all!”

“Okay…” The two sisters stared off, each determined not to break, until Gendry cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“So!” he declared. “What’re your plans for your first day in White Harbor, Sansa?”

“Well, Arya and I have to get groceries, and then we’ve got a lot of stuff still to set up at the house for when Mum and the boys get here.” She was prepared to launch into a more detailed explanation when she noticed Arya shifting awkwardly in her seat and casting furtive glances at Gendry. “And alright, what’s that about?”

Arya groaned. “Okay, look! Mycah’s band is going to be playing at the Mummer’s Hall and we already promised we’d help him get ready for it- I’m gonna work on posters, and Gendry’s on sound and lighting.”

“Seriously? Dammit Arya you _know_ we’ve got a lot to do back at the house!” Sansa scolded. “I can’t believe you’re just sticking me with it!”

“It’s not that big a deal!” argued Arya. “There’s nothing that needs to get done immediately, and when the guys get here they can help, and if Mum ever shows up-”

“ _‘If?’_ ” Her shriek caused the other patrons to swivel around and stare at the unfolding argument.

Arya rolled her eyes. “Fine, ‘when’ Mum shows up, we’ll already have had plenty of time to finish everything!”

“Then let’s just do it all now, if it’ll be so easy-”

“Just because you don’t have anything going on doesn’t mean you can make me cancel my plans!” The comment stung, just like it was meant to; the downside to having a sister who knew her so well was that she knew exactly how to hurt her.

“It’s just a stupid garage band, why can’t you just cancel?”

“Because Mycah’s my friend and he’s really nervous about this and I _promised_ I’d help!”

“Oh of course, so I’m the bad guy here! Anytime we have to do something you don’t like, you always pull this same shit-”

“Okay, okay!” Gendry exclaimed, leaning halfway across the booth’s table like he was ready to physically get between the arguing sisters. “Look, clearly this is all just a big misunderstanding, but it’s fine! I get that you’ve got a lot to do, but it sounds like it’s just gonna be the two of you for a bit so what’s the rush? Besides, I’m sure you’ve got stuff you’d rather be doing anyways.”

She didn’t, but Gendry had no way of knowing that; she wanted to take her anger out on him, but he was just trying to help. Besides, Arya would never forgive her if she yelled at Gendry. So instead Sansa shoveled down the last few bites of her meal, her face burning with fury and humiliation. She drained the last of her coffee and set the cup down much louder than was really necessary.

“Y’know what?” she said curtly, slipping out of the booth. “It’s fine, do what you want. I made plans to go sailing with Theon anyways.”

“You did? When?” Arya demanded.

“Last night,” Sansa lied smoothly. “So since we both have plans, clearly the work will have to wait. Be sure to tip the twins well.”

With that she turned on her heel, so sharp her braid whipped around her shoulder, and stalked out of the diner. She unlocked her bike furiously and rode off; part of her hoped Arya would have dashed out after her, but she knew she wouldn’t have. Besides, on the off chance she did, Sansa refused to give her sister the satisfaction of looking back.

Halfway back to the beach she came to a stop, unable to maintain the punishing speed she’d set off at. Panting, she realized she’d better take stock of her predicament. While her dramatic exit had been very satisfying at the time, she’d backed herself into a corner: Alannys would continue to insist on having them over for dinner, so the truth was bound to come out. She briefly considered asking Theon to lie for her but the thought didn’t sit well. Even if he was willing to do so, she couldn’t ask that of him.

Clearly there was only one option, and while she didn’t like it, it was better than admitting her sister was right about her pathetic social life. Before she could think twice about it she was pulling out her phone and scrolling for a contact she hadn’t touched in years.

**Sansa Stark (8:50 a.m.): [hey can i still take you up on that offer?]**

She hit send, gripping the sides of her phone and fighting not to throw it into the ocean. He was probably out on the water already, Sansa reasoned, his phone packed away in a dry bag. Arya was always bailing on her, of course she’d do this now, she should’ve just said yes when he first asked her-

The phone dinged.

**Theon Greyjoy (8:51 a.m.): [sure! meet up at the docks in 1 hour]**

Gods, it looked like she was doing this after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know grad apps don't usually work like this (I've literally filled out dozens of them) so just uh... pretend they do in modern Westeros and don't @ me about it pls.


	3. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Angelica for letting me word-vomit about sailing!

Sansa took a quick detour back to the house to change into her swimsuit and some boat-appropriate closed toed shoes. She tried not to overthink things as she debated over what coverup to wear- this was just two friends enjoying an activity, _not_ a date- but still couldn’t resist swiping a little waterproof mascara on, just in case. She also grabbed a hat and sunglasses, and was halfway out the door before she realized she’d forgotten her beach towel and had to go back for it; everything went in the bike basket, and she rode off.

The harbor was divided into sections based off the type of boats, keeping the recreational vessels safely away from the larger fishing trawlers. Locking up her bike outside the harbor entrance, she headed over to where the skiffs and sailing dinghies were docked. She spotted Theon on the leftmost dock, busy rigging up a two-person boat. He was bent over, face obscured, but she recognized the logo on his cap as belonging to his stepfather’s pub. The old jetty creaked as she walked over; when he turned and spotted her, his face broke into a wide grin.

“Hey, you made it!” he cheered, waving her over. She would’ve responded in kind, but something else took greater precedence.

“Are you wearing a crop top?” He was, in fact, wearing a crop top, the shirt’s hem falling just above his navel; and yep, his abs were just as toned and tanned as the rest of him, with a light trail of hair leading down below his shorts.

Sansa thought that was really, really unfair of him. Downright criminal, even.

“Are you wearing pants?” Theon teased back. She rolled her eyes, tugging up her coverup to reveal her boardshorts. “Ah, very chic!”

“You too,” she smirked. “So, what’s the plan, capp’in?”

“Well, skipper, I figure we head off that way-” he pointed vaguely westward, “- give you a chance to get comfortable, then let the wind take us around a bit,” he explained. “And then, I have strict orders from my mother to bring you over for lunch.”

“And we can’t disobey that,” Sansa said, fighting to keep a serious face.

“No we cannot,” Theon agreed. “I’m sure she’s already invited Arya and Gendry over as well, so they can just meet us there.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now, where do you want me? Ah, in the boat, I mean.” She flushed, instantly realizing how that came out. Thankfully, Theon didn’t seem to notice. He held out the dry bag for her phone and wallet, then secured it in the porthole.

“Let’s get ‘er in the water first.” Setting her towel down on the dock, Sansa helped him lift the boat off its chocks and slide it into the water. They took turns holding the dinghy close while the other put on their vest, then Theon kept the boat steady while she got in and settled on the starboard side. He took port side, pushed off from the dock, and then they were underway.

“Now might be a good time to ask if you remember how to sail,” Theon quipped.

“It’s been a while,” she admitted. “But I think I’m good. Just like riding a bike, yeah?”

Theon laughed. “Something like that. Just ask if you have any questions.” Passing her one of the lines, he said, “Here, you take the mainsheet, I’ve got the jib sheet and tiller.” 

She did as he instructed and pulled the line taut, bracing her feet on the port side of the hull. The mainsail luffed slightly at first, until she pulled it just enough to get the proper trim. Sansa huffed at the effort of it, grinning; she’d forgotten just how amazing this felt, the light burn in her muscles and the ocean wind whipping past her. The cloud cover had dissipated, allowing the sun to beat down on them; it was a good thing she’d slathered on sunscreen to try and keep those dreaded freckles away. Arya may have complained about getting their father’s height (or lack-thereof) but at least she tanned.

“Think you’re good to tack?” Theon called over the sound of the wind. Tacking- the nautical term for turning through the wind- involved shifting the sails so the wind hit differently and pushed them in a different direction; doing so required them to swap seats quickly and caused the boom to swing across the hull. It could be a tricky maneuver for new sailors, especially if they forgot to duck, but Sansa was feeling good about it.

“Let’s do it!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Theon cheered. “Ready about!”

“Ready!” she responded.

“Coming about!” That was Sansa’s cue to haul ass over to the other side, being careful to avoid getting whacked in the face by the boom as she pulled the mainsheet with her. Theon maneuvered the tiller and the jib, and then that was it- they’d successfully changed directions, the gust of wind propelling them forward. Sansa couldn’t help it, she let out a gleeful whoop. Beside her, Theon’s grin was just this side of manic; it was always out on the water where he came most alive.

They repeated the move a few more times, chasing after the wind that would move them fastest. Now that they’d found their groove they could just coast a while, Theon giving the occasional order. Several times she caught herself looking over at him even when she didn’t need to, admiring the ripple of his muscles as he manned the rigging, every movement smooth and confident. He’d tucked his cap in his shorts pocket, and now the wind was free to tussle his curls.

Theon glanced at her and smiled rakishly. “Alright, I think we’re good if you wanna drift,” he said. Sansa looked over her shoulder at the water rushing by them, searching for the milky tendrils of the local sea nettles.

“How’ve the jellies been?” she asked.

“Not too bad, it rained a lot this week,” he assured her. “If you get any stings we can patch you up once we get to my mum’s.” Getting stung certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was no worse than a mosquito bite, so what the hells? Sansa passed the line over to Theon, then shucked her sunglasses and hat before stowing them under the seat along with her life vest. Hesitantly she raised the hem of her coverup; her swimsuit was tasteful, but it was still little more than a bra and boardshorts. But Theon appeared wholly focused on the sails and didn’t seem to notice what she was doing. As she pulled off her shirt, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to be watching her or not.

Keeping one hand tightly gripping the rope on the edge off the hull, Sansa swung her legs over the side and slipped into the waves. The water was a little colder than she’d expected and she had to fight her natural instinct to gasp, but it felt good on her back and shoulders where the sun had been hitting the hardest. She took a deep breath and ducked her head underwater; with her arms spread wide and the waves rushing all around her, Sansa felt like she was flying.

Sansa stayed under for as long as she could until the burning in her lungs forced her back to the surface. Blinking water out of her eyes, she switched her hands out and flipped onto her back. She glanced over to the boat, and realized Theon was looking at her. Hidden behind sunglasses, his gaze was impossible to read.

“What is it?” she called. He shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, turning back toward the bow. “We’re coming up to the platform, get ready to climb up and dock.”

The diving platform was just a little square out in the water, but it was large enough for two to sit on and had a place to dock the boat. Theon slowed them down so they just coasted and then Sansa was able to swim ahead to the platform. Climbing onto the platform, she caught the dockline Theon tossed her and together they brought the dinghy in and secured it. He reached out and took her offered hand, joining her on the platform. 

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Definitely! It’s even better than I remembered!” The wind blew against her damp skin causing gooseflesh, and she shivered. Theon dropped her hand- how had she not realized he never let it go?- and turned back to the dinghy. He dug around in the porthole before producing a tightly wadded up rain jacket.

“Here,” he said, offering it to her. “This should help. Good thing we’re about the same size.” Ordinarily that would’ve made her squirm, being reminded that she was taller than average for a girl; she’d known way too many guys who viewed her height as some sort of affront to their masculinity. Theon didn’t seem to mean anything by it, though, just that it was good that his jacket fit her.

They sat down on the edge of the platform hip-to-hip, Theon sticking his feet in the water while Sansa folded her legs up to rest her chin on her knees. The backs of her calves burned a bit- yeah, she definitely got a few stings- but not even jellyfish could put a damper on her mood just then. 

“I’m really glad you changed you mind,” Theon spoke up suddenly. Sansa hummed, turning her head just enough to look at him out of the corner of her eye. He was leaned back, propped up by his arms, head lolled over to rest on his shoulder.

“Me too,” she admitted. “I’ve missed this.”

“Last night, I was worried I’d said something to scare you off.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “And I’m sorry it came across that way. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, lately.”

“Does this have anything to do with that offer you told me about?” he asked hesitantly.

“No… yes… maybe?” she stammered. “It’s complicated.”

“Tell me about it? If you want, I mean,” Theon quickly corrected himself. Sansa mentally debated with herself over whether or not she should, turning over and over in her head all the different ways it could go wrong. But Theon had been so open with her, it wouldn’t be fair to hold back; and ultimately, the desire to just _talk_ to someone won out.

“Things have been really difficult for my mum,” Sansa explained. “And I’m worried that if I go to Highgarden, things will fall apart at home without me.”

It sounded ridiculous even to her ears, so she could only imagine how stupid Theon thought it was. Professor Catelyn Tully-Stark was an intelligent, capable woman, a renowned historian at the top of her field who regularly published new work, and on top of all that managed to raise six children. She was easily the most organized, type-A person Sansa had ever known; which only made things after Ned’s death that much more drastic. Between the loss of her husband and the uncertainty of Bran’s fate, Cat had been absolutely inconsolable after the accident, a veritable shell of herself. Things had started looking up once Bran recovered from his coma and his prognosis began to improve, but now it seemed like she’d only transferred her energy into work instead of truly healing.

“Arya said something earlier, about Mum not even coming. I got all pissed at her, but I think she might be right,” Sansa admitted. “She was always busy before, only now it’s become this, this obsession. First she tried covering all of Dad’s classes for the rest of the semester, and now she wants to finish his last book. All she does is pour over his research and work on that _fucking_ manuscript! And even when she’s physically with us, she’s completely checked out mentally!” 

Just thinking about it made her stomach ache; watching her strong, witty mother become a ghost of herself, wholly consumed by her mission. Sansa wasn’t the only one of her siblings who saw the change, though it seemed like she was the only one trying to do something about it. Robb and Jon were off doing their own things, Rickon was fast on his way to becoming a delinquent, and Bran had his own shit to worry about. As for Arya- well, who could guess where that girl would be any given day? 

She huffed a frustrated sigh. “I think it’s her way of trying to hold onto him. Like, if she reads his words enough, it’ll be like he’s still here. But it won’t work: I’ve tried.” 

Sansa wasn’t sure what reaction she expected from Theon, but when she met his gaze there was only gentle understanding in his eyes.

“It’s hard, when the people you love can’t live up to your expectations,” he said softly. “I was just a kid when my brothers went down, but I remember how much it wrecked my mum. Even if it eventually gave her the strength to leave my father. And as far as the book goes- well, I know what it’s like to replace one crutch with another.”

Sansa could just about kick herself; for all her kindly smiles, it was easy to forget all that Alannys had survived. Though their situations were different, Theon could relate to how it felt seeing a parent spiral. At least she could take some comfort in knowing that Ned had been a good father and husband, unlike Balon Greyjoy. Once again, Sansa found herself feeling like a complete and utter brat for whining about her trivial problems to someone who’d clearly had it worse.

“Gods, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this, you must think I’m so pathetic after what you told me last night-” Theon cut her off with a sharp shake of his head, his expression bewildered.

“Wait, I didn’t tell you that stuff as some sort of, of sick way to try to one up you,” he exclaimed.

“Then why did you?” she demanded. She was surprised by her outburst, a little embarrassed even, but suddenly she had to know. “I’m serious, Theon, why did you tell me?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

 _‘Yes!’_ she thought angrily. Because people always had a reason; because otherwise she’d have to assume he expected the same level of honesty from her, and that just wasn’t something she was capable of. Sansa could barely be honest with herself much less him.

“I guess not.” Sansa tried to adopt an airy tone, like she didn’t care, but a part of her just couldn’t get over that he’d also told Gendry. She hadn’t even known Theon and Gendry were friends; frankly, Gendry didn’t like most people- besides Arya- and in all fairness Theon could be a bit of an ass. “It’s your shit to tell whoever you want. Me, Gendry Waters…”

He snorted derisively. “I didn’t tell Gendry shit.”

“But- he knows about the one year chip, and the ceremony,” she stammered.

“I’ve barely told anyone, but they all know anyways. That’s what happens with small towns, everyone knows everyone else’s business, you never have any fucking privacy.” Despite having practically grown up in White Harbor, it wasn’t really her home. She didn’t truly get what it was like to live in a small town where everyone knew all your secrets. Whereas before he’d been so open, now Theon seemed to shrink in on himself; Sansa found she hated seeing him like that.

“I just don’t understand why you’d tell me something like that. It’s not like we were all that close growing up.”

“You didn’t see what I was like at my lowest,” he admitted. “When I finally hit rock bottom, I hit _hard,_ and it was very public. Almost everyone I talk to here already knows because they saw it happen in real time. Telling you was…” Theon trailed off, unsure.

“Safe?” she suggested.

“Exactly: safe,” he agreed. “Look, Sans, sure we weren’t friends when we were kids, but I’d like that to change now. We’re gonna be here awhile, and I think we could both use a friend; if I’m mistaken, just say so and I’ll back off.”

“You’re not mistaken. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m not great at making friends.” She tried to make a joke out of it, but Theon shook his head.

“I think you’re better at it than you believe. After all, we’re friends,” Theon said. He nudged her shoulder with his until she nudged him back, giggling.

“Yes, alright, we’re friends!” she relented, throwing up her hands dramatically. Theon laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders companionably; it was a totally platonic move, but it made warmth pool in her gut. If she couldn’t have anything more, then she’d gladly take this.

“Now, I’m getting hungry, so how about we head over to my mum’s? I think Dagmer said something about crab…”

\---

It was early afternoon when they drifted up to the houseboat where Alannys and Dagmer lived. They’d moored the house a few miles away from the wharf; they had a couple of neighbors, but were otherwise quite secluded from the rest of the world. In that aspect it wasn’t unlike the Stark beach house. Sansa wasn’t sure she liked the idea of living in a houseboat full time, though she could definitely see the appeal. The houseboat was a rustic, two-level dwelling sat atop repurposed pontoons, Alannys’ handiwork obvious in the house’s colorfully painted sides and decorations; bright tapestries were visible through the windows, and on the door hung a massive sculpture of a nautilus that appeared to be made of drift wood and scrap metal. 

Theon sailed the little dinghy up to the dock, easily catching one of the posts. He secured the craft with the docklines then helped Sansa come ashore. When they pulled their phones out of the drybag, she saw a couple texts from Arya.

**Arya Stark (10:15 a.m.): [have you chilled out yet?]**

**Arya Stark (11:00 a.m.): [fine whatever]**

**Arya Stark (11:40 a.m.): [how was sailing?]**

**Arya Stark (12:00 p.m.): [im at lannys for lunch, see you there i guess]**

It was almost one in the afternoon, so assuming that Arya had actually gotten there at noon she’d been here for a while; her sister had a bad habit of saying she’d arrived somewhere when she was actually only just leaving, something that annoyed Sansa to no end. 

Sansa followed Theon through the front door, where his parents and Arya and Gendry were already crammed around the tiny dining table. Space was tight inside, straddling the line between ‘cozy’ and ‘cluttered’, but the foursome seemed perfectly content, Arya and Gendry laughing uproariously at some joke Dagmer told- probably something dirty, if the way Alannys smacked his shoulder and fought to contain her own giggles was any indication.

Alannys’ eyes lit up when she spotted her youngest son and she was out of the chair in a flash, pulling them both into hugs like she hadn’t only just recently seen either of them. 

“Oh Sansa darling, it’s so good to see you!” she crooned.

“Yeah, it’s sure been awhile,” Sansa joked awkwardly; in the background Dagmer laughed. Theon’s stepfather was a rough looking man, a former fishing captain-turned pub owner with nautical tattoos wrapped around his hairy forearms, some noticeably newer than others. He wore a wild salt-and-pepper beard that only partially concealed the scars from a grisly injury he suffered early on in his sailing career; despite the heavy scarring across his lips, his smile was warm and welcoming.

“All she’s been talking about since last night is having you girls over,” he teased.

“It’s been so long!” Alannys complained, taking Sansa’s hand and pulling her over to the table. “Sit, sit! I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to, and all those brothers of yours!” Alannys pushed Sansa into the chair she herself had been occupying in favor of settling on her husband’s lap; Theon made mock gagging noises at his parents’ cuddling, pulling a spare stool up to the table to sit next to Sansa.

“Robb’s got a job at a law practice working as a paralegal. They’ve got him doing grunt work, mostly researching things, but he says it’s good experience. And Jon’s doing an internship way up North; now that he’s finished his environmental science degree, he’s decided to specialize in climate change.” Sansa explained all of this in a pleasant, though perfunctory manner. Talking about her brothers’ respective jobs wasn’t exactly what she’d call fun, but at least it meant she didn’t have to talk about her own stagnant career path.

“I’m surprised Arya didn’t tell you already,” Sansa said, shifting the burden of conversation over to her sister. From across the table, Arya gave a noncommittal shrug, eyes narrowed in an almost imperceptible glare.

“She started to, but then we got to talking about school and art, you know how it goes,” Alannys explained. “This little one here is becoming quite the skilled artist!” The compliment made Arya flush, something that almost never happened.

“You think so, really? What about that still-life I showed you, they’re not really my specialty but my professor insisted that we do them,” Arya asked, almost shyly. “I’m rubbish with drapey fabric, it always comes out stiff and fakey.”

“Still-lifes are difficult for a lot of artists,” Alannys reassured her. “But your professor is right, they’re essential for developing your technique. Think of them as the brussels sprouts of art: misunderstood, often maligned, but good for your growth and enjoyable when done properly!”

Arya beamed at the praise; it was obvious that Alannys’ opinion meant an awful lot to her. Gendry had slung an arm around her shoulders and was watching her excitement with unabashed adoration. It made Sansa all the more aware of Theon squeezed in next to her, so close she could feel the heat of him against her skin. 

“But that’s lovely about your brothers, it sounds like they’re both doing great. It’s been so strange not having them around, tearing up the place with this one,” Alannys said, pointing at Theon. “God, the three of them used to get in such _trouble!_ ”

“Remember that time Robb got a fishhook stuck in his thumb? Son, remind me how you tried to get it out…” Dagmer teased.

“Yeah yeah, I tried to use another fishhook to get the first one out and they both ended up stuck!” Theon huffed; this had the feeling of a story he’d been getting ribbed about for years. “In my defense we were _seven,_ and at least I didn’t cry like Jon!”

“I know, baby, you were very brave,” Alannys cooed. “You girls would’ve been too young to remember, but the whole thing was very dramatic. That was actually how we met your family! Your poor father had absolutely no idea what to do, he came running to us for help. He was prepared to take Robb to the ER, but I was able to patch him up just fine.”

That checked out; despite not having seen the incident, Sansa could imagine her gentle, overprotective father panicking at the sight of any of his children being injured. He’d probably even blame himself for turning his back on the boys long enough for them to get into trouble. Of course it would be far from the last time that the trio’s shenanigans resulted in one of them getting hurt: it was a known fact that every summer at least one of them ended up needing stitches. 

“But enough about that, now, what have you been up to, Sansa?” The dreaded question make her freeze up; she’d much rather they keep talking about the boys’ adventures in dumbassery. 

“Ah well, I finished my bachelor’s degree, and now I’m trying to figure out what’s next,” she said rather lamely. It was bad enough she’d taken an extra year to finish her program, after her grades had plummeted following Ned’s death. 

“She got accepted into a master’s in lit program at Highgarden,” Arya piped up. Sansa shot her a murderous glare.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure about it yet,” she said tersely.

“What’s there to think about? It’s a great program, and the Reach is exactly your kinda scene!” Arya exclaimed. 

“I-I just,” she stammered. Of course Arya would pick _now_ to be interested in her life! “I just don’t know. I mean, what would I even do with the degree?”

“What does that matter, get the degree then figure it out!” Sansa was struggling to think up a retort when Theon spoke up.

“Didn’t you always want to be a writer?”

“Well, not everyone who gets a lit degree becomes a writer. There’s publishers, editors, archivists…” she trailed off. Theon shook his head.

“Okay, but what do _you_ want to do?” he asked. 

She didn’t have an answer for that; because he was right, she had always wanted to be a writer. Growing up, Arya had always had a million different idea about what she wanted to be, while Sansa could never seem to pull herself out of her stories. It had just seemed natural to her that that was what she’d do, but now she wasn’t so sure; and given how much her mother needed her at home, if she didn’t have a clear path then it wouldn’t be fair to leave, right? That was alright for her siblings, but not for her.

“C’mon now, there’s no need to interrogate the girl,” Dagmer spoke up. “Besides, what’re we all sittin’ around flappin’ our gums, when we could be eating crab!”

“Here, let me help you,” Sansa said, getting quickly to her feet and following after him. The houseboat’s kitchen was built into a little nook at the bow, all of the appliances stacked neatly and hidden behind a curtain; it was efficient, but most importantly private, just somewhere she could catch her breath.

Sansa went about gathering plates and mallets, moving carefully around where Dagmer was removing the now-cooled crabs from the steamer. As he set about washing and plating the crabs, she found herself observing him out of the corner of her eye; for such a burly, imposing man, he was surprisingly light on his feet, navigating the tight kitchen with ease. She noticed that one of his tattoos- an ornate axe on the back of his arm just over the elbow- appeared to be newer than the others, and while she wasn’t an expert in tattooing it looked like it may have been done by the same artist who did Theon’s. She remembered then that Theon’s sister Yara was a tattoo artist, and wondered if she’d done both pieces. It seemed unexpectedly sentimental; yet another thing about Dagmer that defied appearances.

Dagmer caught her staring, and the corners of his scarred lips twitched up in a fatherly smile. As he set napkins on top of her stack of plates, he said, “it’s alright, lass. That bunch out there, they pick because they care. Once we set these down in front of ‘em, they’ll forget all about anythin’ else.”

“Thanks,” she murmured shyly.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Y’know, you don’t have to have everything figured out right away. God knows I didn’t at your age.” Sansa didn’t know what to say to that so she just nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

When they came back to the dining table, the rest of their group had covered the table in newspaper in preparation for what was sure to be a messy meal. Sansa placed the plates and mallets in front of everyone, while Dagmer put down the tray of crabs and set out little bowls of melted butter and seasonings. Everyone else was still wrapped up in their conversation, something to do with Gendry’s rowing crew. As Sansa took her seat, she felt Theon’s curious eyes on her. 

“Alright?” he whispered. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and under the table he gave her knee a comforting squeeze. 

Alannys passed around crabs for everyone and Dagmer cleared his throat, bringing all their attentions to him. “Okay you city folk, anyone need a refresher on how to crack these bad boys?” he teased. 

Hefting her mallet in her hand, Sansa brought it down on her crab’s steam-softened shell with a resounding thwack. The sound did little to distract her from the feel of Theon's hand on her skin; but maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could pretend that it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah the fishhook story is shamelessly stolen from 'Avatar: The Last Airbender', I regret nothing.


	4. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing text conversations is really weird? I considered making fake screenshots and embedding them so it looked more like actual texting, but then I remembered I'm not- as the kids say- "tech savvy".

It rained for a week straight- and not the light summer rain that King’s Landing and Winterfell got; no, it was the sort of rain that only plagued coastal towns, coming down in buckets and barely letting up before beginning again with the same force. Any plans they might’ve made were dashed. The one consolation was that in that time the girls got a lot of work done, unpacking all the bedding and furniture that had been packed away. They also went grocery shopping, because as much as they were sure Marya appreciated their business, it wasn’t really practical to have zero food in the house. 

Time passed for the girls in a hazy liminal state. By day three they’d fallen into a comfortable groove; they made margaritas at ten in the morning, ate cereal for dinner, and stayed up absurdly late watching foreign costume dramas. Sansa found she actually didn’t mind the prolonged bad weather, so long as she was able to sit out back in the hammock under the protection of the canopy. From her spot on the patio, she could curl up with a book and look out over the ocean whenever she felt like it, watching the rain-swollen waves crash against the rocky shoreline. Always the more social of the two, Arya had seemed frustrated at first by the confinement, but she quickly found art projects to keep her stimulated. The house’s tables and countertops quickly became filled with her various sketches and art supplies.

Despite having the whole house to themselves, they both chose to keep sleeping in their shared bedroom, and not just because it would’ve been weird to sleep in their brothers’ rooms (or, gods forbid, their parents’ room, locked up like a museum, the one place they hadn’t tidied up for fear of wiping away the last vestiges of their father). After so many summers spent sharing the same space it felt wrong to break from that routine. As odd as it may have seemed, Sansa realized this was the closest she’d felt to her sister in years. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to risk ruining the delicate balance they’d spun, but she suspected Arya felt the same. Why else would she be hanging around the house instead of off with her boyfriend? 

True, Arya couldn’t drive, so she might just not have wanted to ride her bike in the rain, but Sansa liked to think at least some of it was because she enjoyed her company.

Along with rereading some of her favorites, Sansa also found herself flipping through her old journals. She couldn’t quite bring herself to read through the more diary-like entries, not sure she could bear to see her childhood-self talking about her father and Lady, though her early attempts at fiction writing were surprisingly enjoyable. They weren’t particularly _good,_ especially by her standards now, but it was fun to rediscover her old imaginings; even if she cringed at her addiction to purple prose, or how the banally gallant princes always looked like Joffrey Baratheon. Sometimes when she found something particularly funny, she’d send the passage to Theon.

And now, wasn’t that an interesting development: suddenly she and Theon could- and did- spend hours texting back and forth. She told herself it was just because he was bored, that the bad weather was also keeping him inside, but she’d take whatever she could get. It was almost noon and she was curled up in the hammock trying to focus on her book, pretending she wasn’t waiting for Theon to go on break and text her. Next to her, Arya was scribbling furiously in her sketchbook, glaring at the still-life she’d cobbled together out of various beach detritus like it had personally offended her. Sansa tried not to seem too eager when her phone finally dinged, signaling that Theon had gone on his lunch break.

**Theon Greyjoy (11:30 a.m.): [youd think these people would be sick of pub food by now]**

She stifled a laugh at his text; with the marina closed he was stuck working mostly at Dagmer’s pub with his sister, and it seemed like the entire town had decided to camp out there during the daytime. It was probably weird for a recovering addict to be working at- and also living above- a bar, and when Sansa had even said as much, Theon agreed. He tried his best to explain how, for him, alcohol had never been the main problem.

(“For some addicts, drugs and alcohol go hand-in-hand, but the booze was always secondary for me. I don’t get the same cravings for it like with the pills,” he had explained. “Though I do try to avoid the club scene, not that there’s a whole lot of options for clubbing here in White Harbor.” 

Sansa didn’t quite understand, but so long as it worked for him she was happy. She also couldn’t deny the thrill is sent through her, to have him confide in her.)

**Sansa Stark (11:31 a.m.): [hey now the food’s not that bad!]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:33 a.m.): [“not that bad” doesn’t make it GOOD food, sans]**

_‘Fair enough,’_ she thought, but where was the fun in admitting that?

**Sansa Stark (11:33 a.m.): [*gasp*]**

**Sansa Stark (11:34 a.m.): [are you telling me you DONT like greasy day old chips soaked in booze?]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:36 a.m.): [i will have you know they actually taste better like that, but thats a trade secret!!]**

**Sansa Stark (11:36 a.m.): [whatever]**

**Sansa Stark (11:38 a.m.): [just dont tell yara you told me]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:40 a.m.): [lmao are you still scared of her??]**

**Sansa Stark (11:41 a.m.): [umm yeah cause ive got common sense!]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:41 a.m.): [you just dont know her that well, i promise her bark is worse than her bite]**

**Sansa Stark (11:43 a.m.): [she’s in a biker gang.]**

**Sansa Stark (11:43 a.m.): [AND she’s a competitive axe thrower.]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:44 a.m.): [okay point taken]**

She snorted; Yara was a lot of things, but a person to be trifled with wasn’t one of them. Yara was older than Theon by five years, making her a whole eight years older than Sansa. Growing up, Sansa had always been a little intimidated by Theon’s sister, who was rowdy and scrappy and always seemed to have a sharper edge than her brother. She wasn’t a dirtbag like her older brothers, but she always projected an aura of ‘don’t fuck with me.’ Naturally, this meant that as a kid Arya had been completely in awe of her.

**Theon Greyjoy (11:45 a.m.): [so, have you and arya killed each other yet?]**

Sansa looked over at her own sister. Arya’s scribbling had slowed down a bit, and now she appeared to be going over her piece with a critical eye. Every now and then she’d give a delicate swipe with her kneaded eraser, deliberate a bit, then go back in with her blender. The pads of her left-hand fingers were blackened with charcoal, and she’d even managed to get a grey smudge across her nose; Sansa felt an absurd wave of fondness for her sister.

**Sansa Stark (11:47 a.m.): [we’re both still alive, surprisingly]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:48 a.m.): [better than the alternative lol]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:51 a.m.): [i expected shed be spending all her time with gen]**

**Sansa Stark (11:54 a.m.): [she doesn’t have her license, otherwise im sure she would. not sure if she’ll ever get it at this rate.]**

**Theon Greyjoy (11:56 a.m.): [thats so weird, would’ve thought arya of all people would be desperate to drive]**

That was the thing, Arya _had_ been. The day she got her learner’s permit she’d waited outside the DMV before the start of business day, just so she could get it as soon as possible. She studied religiously for the test, constantly begging their parents to take her out to practice. But then the accident had happened, and ever since then she’d flat-out refused to drive.

**Sansa Stark (11:59 a.m.): [she won’t get behind the wheel, not since dad]**

A minute passed, then another. Shit, she’d gone and ruined the easy vibe they’d had going. But she couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea about Arya, even if her driving phobia was infuriating at times.

**Theon Greyjoy (12:01 p.m.): [oh]**

**Theon Greyjoy (12:01 p.m.): [fuck im an idiot]**

**Theon Greyjoy (12:02 p.m.): [im sorry sansa, that was really stupid of me]**

**Sansa Stark (12:04 p.m.): [nono its alright, really!!!]**

**Theon Greyjoy (12:05 p.m.): [think we might have different definitions of “alright”]**

**Sansa Stark (12:09 p.m.): [seriously, it’s fine. none of us really talk about it. about dad.]**

**Sansa Stark (12:11 p.m.): [at least not with each other, maybe arya talks to gendry or bran talks to jojen idk. margie and jeyne are my best friends and i don’t think I’ve ever talked to them about it.]**

_‘Or at least, not like I have with you,’_ she kept herself from adding, just barely. With anyone else, it was just too hard to get the words out. 

**Theon Greyjoy (12:14 p.m.): [you can always talk to me about it, if you want. i like that we’ve been talking more]**

A flush rose in her cheeks when she read that. 

**Sansa Stark (12:15 p.m.): [i like talking to you too]**

“Whatcha talkin’ bout?” Arya said in a lilting tone. 

“It’s nothing,” Sansa replied far too quickly.

“Mmm, well, tell ‘nothing’ I said he should come to our party.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. Arya had been hinting for days that they should throw a party after the rain let up; of course, Arya’s ‘hinting’ was about as subtle as a brick through a window. Sansa had been dodging her on this for days but she was running out of excuses why not, as well as willpower. Frankly, after being cooped up for days, a party sounded kinda fun, even if it would be mainly for Arya’s eclectic group of White Harbor friends.

“How long are you planning on keeping that up?” Sansa complained. Arya looked over at her, one brow arched scornfully. Next to her, Nymeria gave Sansa an eerily similar look.

“I dunno, how long are you going to keep dancing around this thing?” Arya waved her hands around, making incomprehensible- and possibly obscene- gestures like that cleared things up.

“What ‘thing’?” Sansa replied, playing at obliviousness.

“You know, the Theon thing!” 

“There’s no ‘Theon thing’,” she insisted. “We’re just friends, and since friends don’t have things, there’s no ‘thing’ here!”

“But you’d like there to be,” Arya said knowingly.

“That’s ridiculous.” It wasn’t a denial.

“Is it though? You two have been talking basically since we got here, going on boat rides and having intimate night-time chats-”

“We were just talking, at night, there’s nothing intimate about that!” Sansa protested.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you scramble when your phone dings at eleven-thirty, on the dot, the same time he goes on lunch.” The look on Arya’s face turned softer at that. “You light up the moment you see his name on the screen. It’s obvious you like him, so just go for it. Have your hot-girl summer!”

“You know I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Then don’t make it one-night only.” Arya gave a lascivious eyebrow wiggle.

Sansa groaned. “Do I need to remind you how bad my track record with relationships is?”

“Harry’s dumb insecurities had nothing to do with you, and I’m pretty sure Joffrey is _actually_ a sociopath,” Arya said wryly. “We both know Theon isn’t like that.”

Sansa was beginning to run out of excuses. Just like with the party, Arya was wearing her down. “The timing just isn’t right.”

“Bullshit,” Arya declared. “If two people really care about each other, they make it work.”

“It isn’t as simple as that-” she tried, but Arya gave a firm shake of her head, cutting her off.

“Yes, it is.”

They stared at each other, each girl furious for entirely different reasons. Sansa only broke when she felt her phone vibrate against her leg where she’d abandoned it.

**Theon (12:28 p.m.): [hey my break’s almost up, talk later?]**

**Sansa (12:28 p.m.): [absolutely! hope the rest of your shift goes well!]**

When she looked up, Arya was watching her with a smug grin across her face.

“Don’t fucking say it.”

\---

“Nymeria: _crawl._ ”

Nymeria blinked up at her lazily from her spot on the kitchen floor. It was the fifth day of rain, and in a fit of boredom Sansa had dug out the training treats and clicker and was trying to teach Nymeria some new tricks. Lady had always taken well to training, whereas Nymeria remained frustratingly obstinate; she’d done the whole obedience school thing, she knew the basic commands- _sit, down, stay, leave it_ \- but flat out refused to perform anything more complex on command. Sansa suspected it was more a matter of pride on Nymeria’s part than a lack of intelligence.

“Ugh, c’mon girl, work with me here,” Sansa begged. “Nymeria: _crawl._ ” 

Nymeria remained stubbornly in place.

“Fine, but if you don’t do the trick, you don’t get the treat.” Judging by the look Nymeria cast her way, the dog was perfectly fine with that so long as her dignity remained intact. Sansa put the treats and clicker away, and set about making a snack.

“Hey Arya, I’m making a smoothie, want one?” she called as she rummaged through the cabinets for the blender. They’d just used it the other day, it had to be here somewhere… _‘ah, there!’_ she thought triumphantly, digging it out from where it got shoved behind the margarita glasses. Blender in hand, she was in the process of gathering ingredients when she realized Arya hadn’t replied. Despite their little spat the other day, things had been good between the girls. Like most siblings, they’d long ago perfected the art of the not-apology apology: making it clear you regretted the fight and your role in it without assuming any culpability. 

“Arya, did you hear me?”

No response. Frowning, she walked into the lounge, where she found Arya sitting on the floor in front of the bookcase, books strewn about. Her cheeks were flushed and damp like she’d just been crying. Instantly, Sansa kneeled down next to her, a hand hovering hesitantly above her shoulder.

“Arya…”

“I keep thinking that if I read his words, I’ll feel closer to him. Like he’s still here. And it won’t hurt so much.”

“Did it help?” Sansa asked, even though she knew the answer.

Arya scrubbed angrily at her eyes. “No. I dunno why I even bothered. It’s not like it’s helped Mum any.”

“Maybe it’s different for her,” she tried. “Maybe she sees something that we don’t.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Arya huffed. She leaned back into Sansa’s touch, and Sansa took that as invitation to wrap her arm around her. She noticed then that Arya had sectioned her hair off like she did when coloring it.

“Were you going to dye your hair?” Sansa asked.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty faded,” Arya said, nodding.

“Want a hand?”

Arya looked at her, blinking in surprise. “Really? Why?”

Sansa shrugged. “Why not?” 

For once, Arya didn’t seem to have a response. The girls picked themselves up, leaving the books where they lay, then headed for the bathroom where Arya had spread her hair supplies over the newspaper-covered sink.

“Here, put on this smock, I’ve got an extra.” Arya handed her said smock and Sansa tugged it on over her clothes, then put on the rubber gloves Arya passed her. Arya went through the motions of measuring out developer and colors in her mixing bowl, swirling it all together with a dye brush. She laughed at how the smell made Sansa wrinkle up her nose.

“Be glad I’m just refreshing the color and not bleaching,” she said wryly. “It smells way worse!”

“How often do you do this?”

“Depends. I kinda like how the purple fades so I don’t do it as often as other people, but at least once a month,” Arya explained. She unclipped her bangs and started painting the dye on in thin sections at a time, massaging the dye through the strands so it was thoroughly saturated. After doing the front sections, she passed the bowl and brush to Sansa. 

“Now just do what I did but on the back,” she instructed. “And don’t skimp on the dye!” Nodding, Sansa unclipped the section at her sister’s crown and drew the brush from root to ends. The dye was much darker than she’d been expecting, a rich purple so dark it almost looked black in the bathroom light. Arya had about two inches of root growth, her natural color probably too dark to be affected by the dye, but Sansa slathered the color on anyways just like Arya had done with her bangs. Slowly, she worked her way down the back of Arya’s head, twisting off each section once she was done with it and clipping it out of the way.

“Oops, I think I got some on your neck,” she admitted sheepishly when a glob of dye spotted Arya’s nape. Arya waved a gloved hand dismissively.

“You should’ve seen me the first couple times I did this, I turned my whole ears purple!” They both laughed at the image, then once Sansa had finished she stripped off her gloves and handed Arya a hand mirror so she could inspect her work.

“Looks good!” Arya approved, covering her head with a plastic cap. “Now we wait. Hey, did I hear something about smoothies…”

“Alright fine,” Sansa laughed. “I’ll go make them, you clean up here and meet me in the kitchen.”

The blender was out on the counter where she’d left it, though thankfully she hadn’t taken the ingredients out of the fridge yet. She chopped up frozen strawberries, opting for something simple knowing that it was something both of them could agree on. Arya came in while she was blending the ingredients, choosing to hop up on the counter next to her workspace rather than sit at the table. 

Once Sansa had poured the smoothies into glasses, she joined her sister on the countertop. They sat hip to hip, drinking their smoothies in silence. When Arya slurped the last of her smoothie up through her straw, Sansa decided it was safe to speak.

“What made you decide to pull out all his books?” Sansa asked.

“It’s so silly,” Arya sniffled. “I was going to dye my hair, and I started wondering what he’d think of it.”

“He’d probably think it was weird, but in a good way,” Sansa said thoughtfully. “It suits you.”

“He always said I reminded him of Aunt Lyanna. I used to like it, but he seemed so sad, thinking about her.” Arya’s voice was soft as she stared into the bottom of her glass. “I guess I just didn’t want to look so much like her anymore. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Sansa said firmly. “Whatever the reason, your hair is yours to do stuff with. And it looks fly either way!”

Arya burst into laughter. “I can’t believe you actually used the word ‘fly’ unironically!”

“People still use fly!” Sansa said defensively.

“Yeah, senior citizens maybe,” Arya teased.

“Would you rather I say ‘dope?’ ‘Fleek?’ ‘A-F?’” 

“Sto- _o_ -op! You sound like Uncle Brynden!” she groaned. Her phone timer went off, signaling she needed to wash out the hair dye. While she did that, Sansa cleaned up the blender and glasses, then went into the lounge. The books were just where they left them. Hesitantly, Sansa reached out and plucked up the book closest to her. It was opened to the dedication page, where Ned’s even hand had written out:

_‘For my daughters, Sansa and Arya. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts.’_

Sansa gave a watery smile, remembering the first time she saw that dedication. Her dad always insisted on his dedication page being a copy of his own handwriting. It was a little quirk that helped set him apart, but that wasn’t why he did it. Ned had written this dedication during a time when the sisters’ fighting had been especially bad; he might have struggled to express himself aloud, but writing allowed him an outlet for all he was feeling. In that sense, he and Sansa were much the same. The books couldn’t bring him back, though maybe this fragment could be enough. It was certainly better than nothing. 

Arya came back from the bathroom, her wet hair leaving drips on the collar of her t-shirt. Sansa snapped the book closed and quickly began stuffing the books back on their shelf.

“How’s your hair?” she asked.

“Purple,” Arya said dryly. She nodded at the bookshelf. “Your turn now?”

“No, I was-” She cast an eye around the room, searching for an excuse. Her saving grace came in the form of the gramophone-style record player in the corner; it was old, but it had been protected by a dust covering. The table it was placed on even had several records stored in a little basket underneath. “I was gonna put on some music!”

“Sure…” Arya gave her a dry look but didn’t argue the point, joining Sansa in flipping through the records. Sansa paused, recognizing one of the album covers.

“Hey, this is one of Mum’s favorites,” she said, pulling the record out of its sleeve and placing it on the turntable. “I remember her and Dad dancing to it when we were little.” She dropped the needle into place and the gentle guitar melody started up. It was a lovelorn, folksy ballad; listening to it filled Sansa with an intense, almost unbearable melancholia.

 _“Oh, where have you been, my blue eyed son?”_ the singer crooned. _“And where have you been, my darling young one…”_

“Oh yeah, I know this one!” Arya exclaimed, nodding her head along with the slow tempo. “She said this was playing in the quad when they met.”

Their parents had often recounted the story of how they met, typically on their wedding anniversary: as an undergrad, Cat’s friends had set her up with Ned’s older brother Brandon, but he’d blown her off. Then he sent Ned in his place like that would soften the blow. 

Unsurprisingly, this did not work. But, it had led to them talking over coffee; they talked so long that coffee turned into late lunch, then drinks at the pub. It took a while for it to turn into anything more, what with both of them being so studious, but eventually things fell into place. 

_“And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall…”_

“Fitting,” Arya quipped. She turned like she was going to leave, and before she could think better of it Sansa’s arm shot out and snagged her elbow. 

“Hey, about that party,” Sansa said. “Let’s do it.” Arya stared at her, eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait, what? Seriously?” she demanded.

“Yeah, guess you wore me down!” Sansa teased. “Besides, why the hells not?” Arya let out a gleeful whoop and threw her arms around her, clearly just barely resisting the urge to bounce up and down. Sansa patted her back as best she could with her arms basically pinned to her sides.

“Hang on a sec,” Arya exclaimed, drawing back to scrutinize her. “That was way too easy. No.”

“No?” After days of Arya desperately trying to get her to agree to throw this stupid party, Sansa couldn’t believe she’d back off now that she got what she wanted.

“No! _Unless,_ you agree to invite Theon.”

Sansa scoffed. “Oh c’mon, Arya, really-”

“Really. No Theon; no party.” She had her stubborn face on: Arya had thrown down the gauntlet, and now Sansa had no choice but to pick it up.

“Fine, deal,” Sansa relented. It wasn’t exactly a hard bargain. Arya pumped a fist in the air victoriously; Sansa decided that while she might have given in, she could still have some fun. She grabbed Arya’s wrists and pulled her into the center of the room, sending them both spinning. Both girls squealed with laughter as they spun wildly together like a top, their clasped hands the only thing keeping them from tumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the girls listen to is 'A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall', by Bob Dylan; it has a very lovely, haunting feel to it, much like Ned and Cat do. If you give it a listen, you should also check out Laura Marling's cover!


	5. Intoxication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features some drunken shenanigans, including moderate sexual activity between a sober person and an intoxicated person; it is wholly consensual, and things stop before going too far, but I recognize that this could be triggering for some people and I didn't want anyone going in unawares. Stay safe, friends!

Looking out at the yard, Sansa admitted that they _might_ have gone a little overboard with the decorations. They’d raided the storage bins, finding years’ worth of novelty trinkets and kitsch. The yard was lighted by a truly absurd amount of fairy lights and paper lanterns, all in different sizes and colors. Cushions dotted the ground like cobblestones and they’d even raided the inside of the house for extra chairs and tables. 

Arya had been pretty content with setting out booze and calling it a day, but Sansa had insisted on making things a little more put together. Having roomed with Margaery for three years, she’d picked up a bit about event planning and was determined to put it to good use. After debating between serving sangria and jungle juice- with Sansa arguing for the former while Arya insisted they were basically the same thing, just dressed up differently- they set out carafes of both, with the caveat that they list the ingredients.

(“It’s _jungle juice,_ you’re not _supposed_ to know what’s in it!” Arya had argued.

“But what if people have allergies?” Sansa had replied. 

“The amount of alcohol that’s in this, anyone who drinks it’ll have greater concerns than allergies.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem like a polite way to treat guests.”)

The beach house already had plenty of supplies packed away from previous family vacations: Bran had a summer birthday, so their parents had always thrown a little party complete with cheesy decorations and yard games. In addition to the lawn darts, cornhole, and bocce ball, they had a decent sized net for beach volleyball, and they’d been able to borrow a set of speakers and a projector from the local playhouse, thanks to Arya’s connections. While Arya set the music up, Sansa brought the food and beverages out to the tables. In addition to the aforementioned alcoholic concoctions, they’d stocked up on crisps and pretzels, and Sansa had made brownies and fruity bars. She also picked up a case of ginger ale so Theon wouldn’t feel so left out. True to her word, she’d invited him, trying to make it known how much she wanted him there without coming across as desperate: she wasn’t too sure if she’d achieved the second part, but he was definitely coming so at least she’d succeeded in that.

“Suppose I should be glad you didn’t bring the label maker with you from home.” Sansa looked up from where she was writing out the cards. Arya had managed to get the projector working, and it was currently displaying the art she’d made for Mycah’s band.

“For your information, I didn’t need to bring my label maker because Mum has one here,” Sansa said loftily, adding, “besides, a larger script works better for this.”

“Lunatics,” Arya declared almost cheerfully. “I live with a bunch of stationary-obsessed lunatics!”

Sansa’s phone gave a cheery ring, and she had to scramble to search for it in the mess of party supplies. It was Theon calling. She smoothed a hand over her hair nervously, forgetting he couldn’t see her, before picking up.

“Hey!” she answered breathlessly.

“Hey yourself,” he replied. He seemed to be out on the docks, judging by the faint sound of gulls in the background. “How’s the party setup going? Need me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” she said. It came out flirtier than she meant it to, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

“Okay, got a couple more tourists to take out on the boats, then I’m free,” he explained, then paused for a moment before adding hesitantly, “are you _sure_ you’re alright with Yara crashing? Her girlfriend is in town and she brought friends.”

“It’s fine,” Sansa assured him. She couldn’t say she loved the idea of Yara Greyjoy inviting herself over, but the damage was already done. At least it would make Arya happy. “Your sister and her friends are welcome to come.”

“Tell her to bring her throwing knives!” Arya demanded from across the yard. 

“Yes, because with all this booze we should _definitely_ be adding deadly weapons to the mix,” Sansa huffed into the phone. On the other end Theon laughed, and she felt warmth spread through her at the sound. It made her strangely proud, to hear him laugh and know that she was the one who caused it.

“No to knives, yes to girlfriend, got it,” Theon said. “I still can’t believe you agreed to have this party.”

“Me neither,” Sansa admitted. They’d talked about it already when she’d invited him, about how sad thinking about Ned had made Arya; if this was what her extroverted sister needed to cheer up, then Sansa would go along with it, even it went against her ‘good daughter’ instincts. Catelyn would never have let them throw a house party if she was here. Sansa couldn’t deny that a part of her was actually a little thrilled by that: if Cat hadn’t wanted her daughters acting out, maybe she should’ve been there to stop them. The thought was entirely out of character for Sansa, much more the sort of thing Arya delighted in. She wondered if all this time together hadn’t made her sister rub off on her a little, or was this some sort of late-blooming teenaged rebellion?

“Well, I’m happy, whatever the reason.” Theon’s voice brought her back and she found herself nodding, momentarily forgetting he couldn’t see her.

 _‘I’m happy too,’_ she thought. _‘Not because of some stupid party, but because of you. You make me happy.’_

But she couldn’t say any of that nonsense, so all she said was, “me too. Right, then, bye,” before hanging up. Arya shot her a knowing look, but at least had the good sense not to goad her about it.

\---

It was dusk when their guests began to trickle in, the sandy beach cast in brilliant shades by the light of the setting sun. Gendry was the first to arrive, followed quickly by Hot Pie, fresh from the diner. When Theon showed up shortly after, Arya was quick to them aside, making kissy faces over her shoulder that Sansa firmly ignored. She already had enough trouble keeping her stupid crush in check without Arya’s teasing.

“Hey, hope I’m not too early! Yara’ll be along shortly, Dany’s friends took a wrong turn and got lost,” Theon said apologetically.

“Oh no, is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, they showed up just fine, just later than they’d expected,” he explained. 

“That’s good! I mean, not good that they got lost, but good that they’ll be here!” She was aware that she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop. Theon only smiled at her, somehow unbothered.

“Missandei and Grey are good people, I think you’ll like them.”

“So…” Sansa trailed off awkwardly, looking around the yard for some cue. “Oh, I’ve got ginger ale for you! It’s inside, I didn’t want anyone else drinking it all up.” Now it was Theon’s turn to look bashful.

“You got me ginger ale?” he asked, a note of awe in his voice. Sansa wasn’t sure of to make of that, or the look he was giving her, like she’d done something amazing by accommodating his sobriety.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want you to feel left out. C’mon, let’s go get you one.” She headed into the kitchen, waving for Theon to follow her. Inside, Nymeria had posted herself in the doorway between the kitchen and lounge, and was currently glaring at the back door. If wolfdogs had eyebrows, she would have one raised in defiance.

“Not a big fan of parties, huh girl?” Theon asked the dog. Nymeria let out a melodramatic whine, so he gave her a sympathetic pat on the head as he passed by.

“You know how protective she is of Arya, we just didn’t want her getting all territorial on anyone,” Sansa explained, handing him a can. The tips of their fingers just barely brushed when he took it from her, and his expression turned sheepish.

“Thanks. Seriously, you didn’t have to.” Sansa busied herself with getting her own drink so she didn’t have to look at him; even that slight touch had her blushing.

“C’mon, it’s no big. Just cause you don’t drink anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time.”

“Most people forget, or they just don’t understand. But you’ve listened, and…” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. Sansa gripped her glass tightly, the cold sangria almost burning her fingers. Gods, was he _nervous?_ Theon cleared his throat awkwardly, then mumbled, “anyways, I appreciate it, ’s all.” Before Sansa could begin to process what he’d just said, the loud roar of a motorcycle engine broke the evening air.

“Ah, that must be Yara,” Theon said wryly. This time he led the way, and Sansa followed. She stood corrected: there were two motorcycles, each with a rider and a passenger, and they were parked in the backyard. 

The first biker dismounted and before she even pulled off her helmet Sansa knew it was Yara- she and Theon looked as similar as different-sex siblings could, that same lean build, broad shouldered and narrow hipped, with an unmistakable swagger in the way she stood. They even had the same smile, that smirk that said, ‘you can’t fuck with me.’ Sansa had thought it arrogance as a kid, but now she understood that it was just as much a shield as her own people-pleasing tendencies; that didn’t mean she was willing to put it to the test.

“Sorry we’re late,” Yara said breezily as she helped her rider dismount. Based on the way she slipped an arm around her waist, this must be the girlfriend. “Damn, baby Stark, you got _tall._ ”

“Hi Theon, nice to see you again!” the girlfriend chirped. She was delicate young woman barely taller than Arya, despite probably being around Robb’s age, with skin that was shockingly pale, even to someone from a family of redheads. 

“Hey Dany, this is Sansa Stark,” Theon said. “Sans, this is Daenerys.”

“Please, just Dany is fine! Thanks for having us here, Sansa,” she said. “These are my friends Missandei and Grey.” The other new arrivals quickly joined them, another young woman and a surprisingly boyish looking man. Without the bike helmet she was strikingly beautiful, with lovely brown skin and manicured eyebrows. A thin gold septum hoop glinted above her full lips when she spoke.

“Thank you again for letting us crash, Yara said it would be alright.”

“Oh sure, more the merrier! Really you should be thanking my sister Arya, this party was all her idea. She’s around here somewhere.” Sansa half-expected Arya to appear at her side, summoned by her name, but it seemed she was busy with Gendry and their friends. “Ah, c’mon, we’ve got drinks and snacks over here.”

Missandei and Grey followed Sansa’s lead over to the refreshments, while Theon hung back with Yara and Dany; Sansa tried to lose herself in her hostess duties, and pretend she wasn’t disappointed that she had to share him so soon.

Sansa gestured around as she talked, more to avoid awkward small talk than because it was really necessary. “Yeah, so we’ve got stuff here, help yourself- and we’ve got some games, there’s volleyball, and obviously there’s the water.” Thankfully both of them were dressed similarly to her, in clothes you could actually wear to the beach.

“Volleyball sounds like fun,” Grey said. He seemed rather on edge for someone at a party and he spoke almost hesitantly, with an accent Sansa couldn’t place. Sansa wondered if he was maybe self-conscious of it, so she tried to put him at ease. 

“If you play then fair warning, my sister and her boyfriend get crazy competitive.”

“That’s alright, this one does too,” Missandei teased lightly; Grey seemed to relax a little at that, giving her an utterly besotted smile. As she watched the two of them, Sansa felt her own tension ease away. This wasn’t a big social function, it was just a little party with some local kids, and as much as she wished Mya and Myranda or even the Manderly girls were here, she could still have fun and make new friends. 

Sansa offered them both drinks, and when Missandei took hers she noticed the other girl had a striking butterfly tattoo on her upper arm. “That’s such a pretty tattoo, I really like it!” Missandei beamed and Sansa cheered internally; complimenting another woman was always a good way to start up a friendship.

“Oh, thank you! I had Yara do it, she’s really good. You should see the dragon she’s working on for Dany, it’s incredible!” Missandei held out her arm so Sansa could see better: the butterfly was done in vibrant blues, with fine black veins streaked across its delicate wings. It was so realistic Sansa half expected it to suddenly flutter away.

The ice successful broken, Sansa found herself chatting easily with the two guests. She learned that Missandei also had a degree in literature though she mainly worked as a linguist, translating books and poetry into different languages. Having barely passed ‘Intro to High Valyrian’ in secondary school, Sansa found the whole idea fascinating. Her new friend was also a proficient swimmer, having grown up on an island called Naath, while Grey had never even seen the ocean before; he grumbled about the sand constantly getting into his shoes, but admitted that the sunsets alone made the trip worth it. 

They didn’t have time to chat long before Theon was running up to them. He greeted Grey with a hug, complete with the sort of back-slapping men always insisted on doing, then gave Missandei with a kiss on the cheek. He did neither to Sansa, though his warm hand drifted up to lightly cup her elbow. She had to resist leaning into the touch.

“Hey Sans, I think Arya’s trying to get a game of volleyball going, wanna be on the same team?” Theon said.

“You know I’m not much of a volleyball player,” Sansa warned.

“That’s okay, we’ll be on your team too,” Missandei offered. “Grey’s pretty good, and I’m no slouch.”

Sansa wasn’t sure that’d be enough- she really wasn’t the sporty type, having always leaned more towards dance and gymnastics- but her new friend seemed so earnest that she couldn’t refuse. “Alright, sure.” 

Theon positively beamed. “Cool! Grey, let’s go help set up the net?”

They watched the boys walk away. Sansa tried not to ogle Theon but it was difficult: with the fading sun casting him in a warm glow, he looked like a boy out of a cheesy beach movie.

“Truth be told, Grey’s more of a rugby player, but he’s stubborn enough to make up for it,” Missandei admitted. “So, how long have you and Theon been together?”

Sansa choked on her wine. After the other girl gave her a firm pat on the back, she managed to stammer out, “we, ah, we’re not- we’re just friends.” 

“Oh, sorry, my bad! The way he talks about you, I just assumed.” It was an easy mistake, but Missandei seemed so embarrassed that Sansa quickly tried to smooth things over; so quickly, she didn’t even allow herself to think about the implications of what Missandei had said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. We sorta grew up together. After my older brother Jon was adopted, our parents started bringing us to White Harbor every summer. Theon’s mum had just moved them here, so our families ended up getting on.”

It was a far more sanitized version of the real story; that Jon’s mother, Ned’s sister, had gotten pregnant way too young, by a married man, and after struggling to raise him on her own had given up custody of him and vanished. Already with three young children at home, Cat had been angry at Ned for taking Jon in without consulting her; meanwhile Jon was only five at the time, and, confused and scared as he was, he’d lashed out at Catelyn for ‘replacing’ his mother. Sansa had been barely two years old, but she still remembered the tension that had filled their home during those early days. It was Uncle Brynden who suggested they take a family vacation, offering them the house in White Harbor. 

Ever since then, she’d always seen the place as a safe haven, an escape from the real world; but her problems had gotten bigger over the years. As enjoyable as the past week had been, she wasn’t sure this little place was enough to handle them. Especially when one of said problems was impossible to avoid, even if she wanted to.

“That sounds nice,” Missandei said hesitantly, probably sensing that she’d touched a nerve. Sansa painted on a smile to show her all was well.

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s go get our butts kicked.”

\---

The party guests split up into teams of four- Theon, Sansa, Missandei, and Grey on one, Gendry, Arya, Dany, and Yara on the other- with Hot Pie acting as referee. They played a few rounds of beach volleyball; Sansa had been just as hopeless as she’d warned, and she ended up spending most of the time either giggling with Missandei or letting Theon try and correct her form. Despite Missandei teasing Grey about his competitive streak, it was Dany who turned out to be the most competitive, rivaling even Arya. 

The game only ended when Lommy and Micah arrived, coming late from a gig and bringing pizza to make up for it. Both teams eventually agreed to a draw, if grudgingly- Hot Pie was a terrible ref- so everyone could eat and drink more. As the party went on, evening turning into night, Sansa found it harder and harder to keep her thoughts from turning to Theon, even when she was mingling with other people. Though, admittedly, the alcohol probably had something to do with it. She’d forgotten just how much drinking happened at parties: all you’d do was talk and drink, and then as soon as you finished one cup another would find its way into your hand. She even found herself drinking that dreaded jungle juice, despite her earlier protestations.

After letting Arya play the weird techno-pop she called music for far too long, someone finally wrestled control of the speakers from her and put on some Top 40 station. People started to break off into pairs to dance, and suddenly she realized that Theon was next to her. She let him take her hand and pull her into the lighted patch of ground that had turned into the designated dance zone. 

The shifting sand under her flip flops made her stumble and he reached out to steady her, his hands warm and dry against her bare sides. She kicked her shoes off to the side with a satisfied huff, and Theon laughed and kicked his own sandals off in solidarity; but he kept his hands on her waist. Rather than pull back, she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and they fell into a casual sort of slow dance. 

“You’re such a lightweight, Stark,” he teased as they swayed back and forth. Sansa would’ve protested, if her lack of coordination hadn’t so thoroughly given her away.

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve got a sober buddy to keep me in line.”

Theon scoffed at that. “She says to the recovering addict. Think I’ve proven by now that I’m not exactly responsible.”

“Maybe not with yourself,” she argued, “but I trust you. I know you’ll keep me safe.”

_Shit,_ she hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. Stupid booze. She expected Theon to pull back at that, to run away at her clumsy attempt at intimacy; but he didn’t. If anything, he brought her closer. This close she saw the faintest hint of freckles across his nose. His smile was delightfully crooked. She could see every speck of color in his sea green eyes, each of his dusty lashes fanning out. She’d often wondered how the ancient ironborn could see drowning as something sacred; looking into Theon’s eyes, she felt she finally understood. It was about being fully embraced by something, something that truly loved you.

Then she heard a familiar laugh, and over his shoulder she caught Arya pointing them out to someone. Instantly her good mood evaporated. This was a bad idea, she should’ve known better than to let herself slip up like this. Wrenching away from his arms, she snatched up her shoes and stormed off, brushing angrily past Arya.

“Why do you always have to spoil _everything?_ ” she spat, moving on before her sister could say anything back. She half-walked, half-ran from the party, making it to the driveway by the time Theon caught up with her.

“Sans- wait, Sansa, c’mon-” he said, catching her wrist to keep her from going any further; she yanked her arm away furiously and he let go almost instantly, only to take her gently by the shoulders. “Hey hey, don’t run away, just talk to me.”

“Why does she- why does she _always_ have to do that?” she sobbed, her words coming out in a slurred mess. He seemed at a total loss.

“Do what, I don’t understand-”

“Arya, she was _laughing_ at us!” Sansa cried. Theon still looked confused but he didn’t try to argue with her.

“C’mon, let’s take a walk, clear your head,” he offered. “You’ve had a lot to drink, probably too much.”

She scrubbed at her teary eyes furiously. “Yeah, alright.” Theon wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, then started to head for town. Sansa ducked her head into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, letting him lead the way.

“’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “So stupid, I’m stupid, stupid...”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “Kinda white girl wasted, yeah. But you’re not stupid for getting upset and needing a breather.”

“I heard Arya laughing, and I saw her pointing at us, and I just assumed…” she trailed off miserably. “Gods, we were getting along so well, and now I’ve fucked it all up!”

“You just had a spat, is all, it’s not the end of the world. Tomorrow once you’ve sobered up you guys’ll talk and it’ll all be fine,” he reassured her.

“I _hate_ fighting with her, but sometimes it seems like that’s all we do.” It made her think of the awful words she’d said years ago after Lady died, the last words she ever said to her father.

“It’s okay,” Theon whispered. He was running his free hand through her hair, brushing away the loose strands that had gotten stuck to her wet cheeks.

“Dad hated it when we fought. It always made him so sad. He’d be disappointed in me now.”

“No he wouldn’t. I promise you, I’ve done way worse, and my mum and Dag have forgiven me, even though I didn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t believe that,” she murmured. “You’re so good, Theon, so good…”

“I’m really not, but thank you.”

It took longer to get to the town square than it would’ve by bike, but with her head still floaty from the alcohol Sansa barely noticed. By the time they made it to the old fountain the night air had helped calm her down. The lamps along the walk were lit up, light dancing off the flowing water around Old Fishfoot. Theon kept his arm around her as he helped her sit down on a bench. She slumped forward, burying her face in her hands. Heat flooded her face, either from embarrassment or the alcohol.

“Feeling better?” Theon asked, sweeping a hand down her back.

“Some,” she said.

“Listen, about what you said earlier,” he said gently. “I know it’s the booze talking, but you gotta know, your dad wouldn’t be disappointed in you. He loved you guys so much, I don’t think anything could’ve made him stop.”

“When he died…” she said tremulously. “I was still so mad at him. I told him I hated him, for letting Lady die.”

Theon’s hand on her back stilled. “What exactly happened to Lady? Robb didn’t say much, just that it was an accident.”

She hesitated; it felt so wrong to still be feeling this way all these years later, but something told her Theon wouldn’t judge her. “It was Dad’s fault. He left the back gate open and she ran out. I don’t know why, she was always so well behaved, but something must’ve spooked her. She ran out onto the road and got hit by a car. I was so angry at him. I said that he would’ve been more careful if it was Nymeria, because he loved Arya more than me.”

“Shit. You’ve had a lot of bad luck with cars lately,” Theon said; then he winced, probably thinking it was too callous, but she found she appreciated his bluntness. He continued on, “that really sucks, it does. But, Sans, I’m sure he understood. We all know how much Lady meant to you, he must’ve known you didn’t mean it.”

“But I did!” she burst out. “In that moment I really did! And that was the last thing I ever said to him. Then the accident happened, a-and he was dead, and Bran was in the back, bleeding, and they, they wouldn’t answer me.”

Theon stared at her, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know you were in the car too.”

She laughed, a mirthless, grinding sound. It wasn’t surprising, most people outside of her family didn’t know; she hadn’t even been hurt, so it seemed selfish to bring it up, especially compared to Bran’s injuries. Like waving a big neon flag and shouting, _‘pay attention to me, I have trauma too!’_

“Passenger seat. Bran was behind Dad. The other car hit their side straight on, but I walked away without a scratch.” She still had nightmares about Ned’s lifeless face, blood in his eyes, staring at her unseeing.

“Doesn’t sound like you did,” he said wryly.

“It’s such bullshit. Dad’s _dead,_ Bran will _never_ walk again, and here I am crying over my stupid fucking _dog!_ ” The tears started up again, harsher now, enough that her body shook from the force of it. Theon started to move away, giving her some room, but she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his neck.

“It’s okay to grieve both of them,” he murmured into her hair. “It doesn’t make you a bad person. You lost them both, and you’re allowed to feel that hurt.” He let her cry until her tears petered out, holding her the entire time.

“You’re so good, Theon,” she said again.

“I’m _really_ not,” he said. She pulled back just enough to look at him; he had a bashful, almost self-deprecating look on his face.

“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “I’ve been crying all over you and making a mess, and you’ve just let me. You’re so good, and kind.” Suddenly nothing was more important than convincing him of that, making sure he knew how much she trusted and believed in him.

Maybe it was that desire- or maybe just the alcohol- but suddenly she was pressing her lips against his. He tasted of pizza and ginger ale; Sansa thought it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Theon made a surprised sort of sound into her mouth, then he was kissing her back, and their lips were moving together. His tongue prodded at her bottom lip and she opened her mouth eagerly for him. They were already pressed together but it wasn’t close enough, so she climbed onto his lap.

“It’s alright, you can touch me, please touch me,” she said into his mouth. He kept one hand pressed against the small of her back steadying her, the other slipping under the front of her thin shirt and beneath her bikini top to caress her breast. His hands were warm but his touch still made her shiver, after so long of wanting and denying it.

“Wait, Sansa,” he managed to gasp out between kisses, “this is a bad idea,”

Sansa didn’t see how. Her first time had been with Joffrey in the back of a car on prom night; it had been fumbling and awkward, and left her feeling used. Things had been pretty good with Harry, for a while, until he realized she was serious about having a career after college instead of being his trophy wife, even if she wasn’t quite sure yet what that would be. This couldn’t be any worse an idea than they had been, especially not when she felt the way she did about Theon.

“Sansa no, I can’t,” he said, this time more forcefully, disentangling their limbs.

She could tell she was pouting, childish as it was. “Because of Robb and Jon?” she demanded.

“What? No!” he exclaimed. “Because you’re sloshed!”

“No I’m not!” she said petulantly.

“Yeah, you are,” he insisted. “I don’t want to be something you regret come morning. You deserve better than that.”

“I couldn’t regret you even if I tried.” That brought the hint of a smile to his lips.

“Maybe so, but let’s not put that to the test. C’mon, the bar’s right down the street, you can crash at my place.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed. She let Theon help her to her feet, and they headed down the cobbled path. Rather than going in through the front door Theon steered her around to the back, which opened up to a narrow staircase leading up to the second level.

Upstairs was a small apartment; it was difficult to see much with the lights off, but Theon easily directed her to a bedroom that she assumed was his. Sansa collapsed onto the bed with a huff and watched the ceiling spin above her while Theon rummaged through a dresser. He pulled out a couple items and dropped them on the bed next to her then left the room for a moment, coming back with a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets.

“Here, this’ll help with that hangover you’re definitely going to have,” he said, tipping the pills into her hand. She took them without question, gulping down about half the water in the process, then handed the glass back. He set it on the bedside table before pointing to the items he’d left on the bed for her. She realized after a moment that they were sweats and an old shirt, worn soft with use.

“Something more comfortable to sleep in,” he explained. “I’ll give Yara a call, have her tell Arya that you’re staying here for the night. Bathroom’s right down the hall, if you need it.” He watched her closely, probably to make sure that she wouldn’t keel over from alcohol poisoning; then, apparently satisfied by whatever he saw, he turned to go.

“Wait, where are you going?” she asked, suddenly gripped by the fear that he’d leave the room, maybe even the apartment all together.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” he said, seeming surprised that she even had to ask.

“Please,” she said timidly; all her earlier boldness had fled. “Stay here?”

He hesitated, clearly weighing something in his mind. “Just to sleep?”

She nodded so vigorously it made the already spinning room worse. “Just to sleep.”

“Alright,” he acquiesced, “but I’m changing in the bathroom. Be right back.” Sansa had to fight to keep from whooping with joy.

He slipped out to change, then Sansa began the frustrating task of getting changed while hammered. The shirt was as soft on her bare skin as it looked, and she gave into the urge to rub her hands over it. Through the door she heard the low rumble of Theon’s voice- talking to Yara, probably.

“- yeah she’s pretty drunk… probably best if she just stays here an’ sleeps it off… _fuck_ no, what kinda pervert do you think I am? Wait, wha- hi Arya, yes… _yes_ … I’ve got her at my place… everything’s fine, you just enjoy the party…”

Theon said something else that she couldn’t hear, probably reassuring Arya that he wasn’t going to do anything untoward. If she hadn’t been pissed at her sister, Sansa would’ve felt a surge of affection at her concern; but the earlier events of the night still had her feeling too raw.

When Theon came back in she reached out to him with grabby hands, unable to hide her glee. Theon rolled his eyes and chuckled, then squeezed beside her into the single bed. It was a tight fit, impossible to avoid touching each other, which Sansa decided to take full advantage of. She burrowed her face into his chest, smelling the salt water and cologne and whatever just made him _Theon._

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, so quiet she almost thought it was in her mind.

And if he wrapped an arm around her, and whispered back, _“never”_ … well, she could always let him pretend she didn’t remember come morning.


	6. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit heavier this chapter, so I've adjusted the tags accordingly, but just to go over it properly: CW for discussion of past rape/non-con and consent issues. Nothing is shown or described, but it is talked about.

When Sansa woke, she barely had time to register the pounding in her head and dryness of her mouth before realizing she was alone in the bed. In _Theon’s_ bed. The bed he’d so graciously let her stay in even after she drunkenly cried all over him and practically molested him. _Shit._ Last night’s events were foggy, but not enough to forget just what a fool she’d made of herself. At least Theon hadn’t recoiled at her advances, even if he didn’t feel the way she wanted him to; maybe there was a chance, miniscule as it might be, that they could still salvage their friendship. 

She freed herself from the tangled blankets, shivering a little in the cool morning air, and wandered into the kitchen where she found Theon. He was busy at the stove, cooking something she couldn’t see, swaying lightly side to side like he was lost in his head. Even after getting to know him better these past couple weeks, along with having grown up together, this was a side of Theon she hadn’t seen before. He looked so peaceful, so soft, she was loathe to disrupt. 

But as much as she would’ve liked to, she couldn’t stay there watching him; he’d been a perfect gentleman last night, far more understanding than she deserved, but now that morning had come he’d want her out. She’d blown up their friendship spectacularly, and it was time to face the music.

“Theon, I-”

“Hey good, you’re up!” he said cheerfully. “Got plenty of coffee ready to go. How’d you like your omelette?”

“My- my what?” she stammered.

“Omelette,” he said again. “Eggs, cheese, veg? D’you want mushrooms or nah?”

“Um, yeah, mushrooms are fine,” she said hesitantly. “Look, Theon, about last night...”

Theon tensed minutely at that, but it quickly passed and he gave a flippant shrug. “Let’s wait until after breakfast to talk about it, yeah?”

Sansa wasn’t convinced that was a good idea, though if Theon wasn’t ready to talk then she wouldn’t force it. “Alright. Can I help?”

“You can make some toast, if you want. Bread’s in the box.”

She popped a couple slices in the toaster then set about getting herself some coffee, sneaking little glances at Theon the whole time. He seemed wholly focused on the matter at hand, sprinkling cheese and chopped vegetables in the pan before carefully folding the omelette in place. If her being here after last night’s debacle made him uncomfortable in any way, he certainly didn’t show it.

Theon plated the omelettes and toast, and the two of them sat at the little kitchen table and ate in silence. A thread of discomfort ran through the room, but it was mild enough for Sansa to push past it and enjoy her meal. The food was actually quite good, the eggs and vegetables flavored with savory herbs, the toast warm and slathered with sweet jam. If she let herself, she could almost imagine that every morning could be like this, the two of them sharing in quiet companionship. 

But then the food was gone, and all that was left was to finish the dregs of her cooling coffee and somehow get through this dreaded conversation.

“Theon, I… I am so sorry,” she started. “Last night was a huge mistake, I was such a mess, and you were so kind the entire time, and I just… I understand if you don’t want to hang out anymore, but I really hope we can still be friends.”

“That’s not how I was expecting this to go.”

“I- _huh?”_

“Sansa, I was afraid you’d be the one who didn’t want anything to do with me after last night. You were drunk and I let you spill your guts-”

“I didn’t exactly give you much choice.”

“Maybe, but then you kissed me-”

“Again, I am _so_ sorry for doing that, I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“And I know I shouldn’t have, but I really wanted to kiss you back.”

“You… you did?”

“Um, yeah? Seven hells, Sansa, I thought it was obvious. I really like you. Probably more than I should like my best friend’s little sister.”

Sansa couldn’t help but bristle at that. “We’re not children anymore, I don’t need Robb or anyone else’s approval to date someone.”

“You’re right, we’re not, and you don’t,” he agreed. “What I meant was, I don’t want you thinking that I’m some perv after you, I really always thought of you just as my friend’s kid sister. But then, you came back this summer, and… and things were different. _We_ were different. So what happened last night, I understand that you were drunk and upset and that it didn’t mean anything to you, but I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something to me.”

“Who says it didn’t mean anything to me?” Now it was Theon’s turn to look at her dumbfounded. “You have been the best part of my time here. I am… completely gone for you. I’ve been trying to deny it because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

 _“Oh,”_ he breathed.

“Yep.”

“We’ve both been really stupid, huh?”

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Hugely. So… what are we waiting for?”

“As much as I’d like to, there’s, ah, some things you need to know. About me.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair awkwardly, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Stuff that I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but now I think I need to.”

“Alright, yeah, of course,” she said without hesitation. “You can tell me anything, Theon, I promise.”

“Can- can we actually go somewhere else? I don’t really want to talk about it here.” Now his hands were clenching nervously at his thighs, fingers worrying at frays in his jeans. Whatever this was, it was taking a lot of courage to even attempt to bring it up; considering the things they’d already shared with each other, she felt a little afraid of whatever could possibly be making him so anxious. Not that she’d let that stop him from telling her, of course. 

“Absolutely. Whatever you need, Theon,” she said firmly. Sansa moved her chair closer and took his hand in hers, stilling the manic picking. It worked. Hesitantly, Theon raised his eyes to meet hers; she could only hope that he saw how genuine she was.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s silly.” Sansa thought about how she still couldn’t bear to go into her parents’ room at the beach house, how she instinctively put away any photos of her dad. She didn’t know if what Theon had to tell her was linked to the flat or if he just didn’t want to bring those memories in here, but either way she understood the need to get away.

“No it’s not,” she assured him. “C’mon, I’ll clean the dishes, then we’ll go wherever you want.”

“You haven’t dressed yet, go change and I’ll clean up here,” he said, already stacking their plates.

“C’mon now, you cooked, I should clean!” Sansa protested.

Theon’s lips finally quirked into a grin. “Alright, how about we _both_ clean up?”

“Deal.”

Between the two of them they made quick work of the breakfast dishes, then Sansa went back into Theon’s room to change. She found her phone still in her shorts pocket, the battery having dwindled overnight. There were several missed calls and voicemails all from Arya but she ignored them all. After last night, she didn’t feel much like talking to her sister; their inevitable fight could wait.

\---

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Sansa said when she saw how Theon intended to get them wherever they were going. He’d led her to the pub parking lot where a grey and bronze motorcycle was waiting. 

“What, you’ve never been on a bike before?” he asked innocently, tossing her a helmet before strapping his own on. 

“Theon, you know I haven’t!” She eyed the motorcycle like it was a sleeping beast that would, it would wake and eat her whole if she got to close. “I’m not built for them, I’m not tough like Yara.”

“You’re tougher than you think, Stark; it just takes practice. Missandei and Dany ride theirs all the time,” he reminded her. Sansa thought about how both the other girls had seemed perfectly comfortable on their motorcycles- sure Yara had helped her girlfriend dismount, but that was probably unnecessary, just her being sweet in her own Greyjoy way.

“Alright…” she said tentatively, putting the helmet on.

“It’s the only way to get where we’re going, unless you take a boat. We’ll hardly be going that fast, it’s just better for navigating these backroads- you’ll see. Besides, you said ‘whatever you need, Theon,’ remember?” he teased, throwing her a rakish grin as he got seated. 

“I’ve a feeling I’m going to regret that,” she grumbled without any heat, then sat behind him. She started off with her hands tentatively at his hips, but when the roar of the engine started she let out an undignified squeak and quickly wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly, and buried her face in his shoulder as best as she could with the helmet on. She thought Theon might have laughed at that but the bike engine was terribly loud, so she more felt the vibration through his ribcage than actually heard it. 

Theon did something with the hand gears that she couldn’t see, then they were off. Sansa kept her eyes shut for the first couple minutes until she started to become used to the roar of the engine and the shaking of the bike beneath her. True to his word, they weren’t going much more than normal driving speeds, it just seemed faster at first with the wind rushing by. It was still enough to make her hair whip around her face and her eyes water, though, so she hung on tight to Theon. 

They rode through town, past the limewashed Snowy Sept and the tiny movie theatre with only one screen, and down a back road that took them into the woods. The road was narrow, one lane barely wide enough for a single car, and wound through the same forests she’d camped out in with her siblings as a child. They kept going for about half an hour until they reached a point where the paved road turned to dirt and they had to continue on foot, leaving the bike parked nearby.

“It’s actually Yara’s, she doesn’t usually let me ride it but she made an exception cause Dany’s here,” Theon explained as he tucked the bike behind an old stone wall, pulling a cover over it for good measure. “And between the two of us, she’d definitely pick the bike over me.” Sansa didn’t think that was even remotely true, but she thought it best to keep her mouth shut. Theon started walking down a deer trail and she hurried to keep up, instinctively grabbing his hand so they didn’t get lost; she blushed furiously, but instead of shying away, Theon squeezed her hand back.

“So, where are we going?” she asked, looking around. The trees were started to thin out as they got further from the road, the ground shifting from dirt to pebbly sand.

“You’ll see,” he said, looking back over his shoulder to give her a reassuring smile.

A few paces ahead, the woods gave way to a thin scrap of beach. It clearly wasn’t a place tourists went, the sand far too coarse for playing in. The coastline was also much steeper than it was by the beach house and made up of sharp boulders, slippery with algae. Theon stopped when they reached the shore and pointed to a tiny cave in a the side of a cliff a few yards away. 

“There, that’s where we’re going,” he explained. “We’ll have to wade a little to get there, so just follow me and watch your step.” They stepped into the water together and Sansa had to repress a shiver at the cold bite of the ocean this early in the morning. Theon kept his gaze straight ahead but gave her hand another comforting squeeze.

“How the hells did you even know this place existed?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the nasty squelch of algae in her sandals.

“Robb and Jon and I found it when we were ten,” he replied. “It was completely on accident, we were chasing a runaway dinghy that _someone_ forgot to tie up properly.”

“Did that ‘someone’ happen to be you?” Sansa asked suspiciously. The water was up to their knees now.

Theon laughed, admitting, “yeah, but at the time I blamed it on Jon. Couldn’t have two landlubbers thinking they knew more about boats than me!”

“Oh, naturally,” she agreed, giggling. Thankfully the water level began to drop and the ground became less rocky as they neared the cave entrance. It was a tiny little thing, the ceiling low enough that she had to duck to follow Theon inside. Secluded as it was, and without even the thinnest shore to walk along, it made sense now why they’d had to wade out to it. It would probably be even more difficult to find by boat, tucked away in a section of cliffside that curved like a horseshoe. 

Once they made it past the entrance the ceiling became raised enough that Sansa was able to straighten up fully without fear of scraping her head. The floor had a slight incline the deeper they travelled into the cave, and they were able to find a patch of mostly dry sand to sit on just far back enough they could barely see the cave entrance. Theon turned on the flashlight on his phone and set it on his knee so the light illuminated the cave walls, casting their faces in ghostly shadows. Looking around, Sansa could now see the evidence that this place had seen frequent visitors once upon a time. There were the charred remnants of an old firepit, scattered piles of interesting rocks and shells that were arranged too neatly to have been done by animals. In general it was far cleaner than she’d expect of a secret hideout for teen boys, though there were a few choice charcoal drawings on the cave walls. 

“Who else knows about this place?” she asked.

“No one, besides me, Robb and Jon, and now you,” Theon said, then after a moment’s thought amended, “well, knowing Jon he probably also told Arya, but I’m not sure if she’s ever been.”

“You’ve been here recently.” It wasn’t a question: there were still ashes in the firepit that told her so. 

“It’s a good place to hide out and think,” he said distractedly, looking anywhere but her face. Sansa placed a gentle hand on his jaw and turned his face to meet hers, doing her best to project warmth and kindness in the hope that it would put him at ease.

“Now that we’re here, what did you want to tell me?” she asked. “Whatever it is, it won’t change how I feel about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Don’t say that, not until you know,” Theon whispered, looking pained. “I’m not trying to scare you, I swear, I just- I just need you to know the kind of man I really am.”

“Then tell me, and let me decide for myself.”

“I-I… alright.” He cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “You know how I live with my sister? That wasn’t my choice, it was a condition when I left rehab. Because I can’t trust myself not to use if I don’t have someone looking over my shoulder. I work at the bar, but I don’t have keys to the till, because I stole money from my family to pay for drugs. I’ve been sober nearly a year, but sometimes the urge to use gets so bad it’s like it was only yesterday.”

“It’s okay, Theon, I already knew this,” she soothed, then amended, “well, maybe not some of the specifics, but you told me things were really rough, that you did things you weren’t proud of.”

He laughed at that, a wretched, miserable sound. “That’s not even scratching the surface… God, Sans, I was so messed up, and too far gone to even realize how bad things were. You know how my father was a real sack of shit? Well, his brother is even worse. The stuff that got my brothers doing life in Harrenhal, that was stuff they did on his orders. My mum tried _so hard_ to keep me away from that life, but I let it find me anyways.

“Having a drug problem is expensive, especially when you live in a tiny town like this; I’d have to go to nearby villages to get stuff, and so I’d be less likely to run into someone I knew. I became a regular for this- well, he’s a dealer, but he’s involved in all sorts of shady shit. My family name still carries certain connotations for people like him, so when I couldn’t pay, he had me pay it off in other ways.”

“How so?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral and judgement-free.

“Doing jobs for him. Loan sharking, dealing, harassing other druggies, and prostitutes.” Theon’s voice got very quiet then, so quiet she had to strain to hear. “And- and other services. Private things. Just for him.”

Theon went silent then, and at first she thought it was because he was simply done talking; then she realized the way he was looking at her, like he was waiting for her to spit in his face and leave.

“I-I… Theon, I’m not going to judge you for being assaulted.” She was trying to go for understanding, but Theon still flinched.

“No, no, it was consensual,” he insisted, though it sounded like he knew how feeble that was. “He had something I needed, I had something he wanted. Basic supply and demand.”

Sansa tried not to purse her lips at that: she wouldn’t have judged him for doing sex work, but that wasn’t what this sounded like, even if Theon couldn’t bring himself to admit it yet. This anonymous dealer had taken advantage of Theon when he was hurting, raped him and kept him from getting help earlier. It had been a long time since she felt such rage at someone she’d never met, not since that drunk driver stole her father from her; whoever this bastard was- this nameless, faceless monster- she hated him straight down to her bones. Was this a taste of that righteous fury Arya and Rickon always seemed to be filled with? If that was so, she didn’t know how they made it through the day- hells, through a single hour. 

To her horror, she saw that Theon had started to shrink back from her and she realized that she must have let some of that anger slip. She’d have to find an outlet for it eventually, but right now Theon didn’t need that, he needed her to be kind and soft and reassuring; so she tamped down all that rage and tried to focus entirely on the man in front of her.

“Thank you, for trusting me with this,” she said, her voice only wobbling slightly. “I can’t imagine the courage it took to tell me, and I’ll do my best to be worthy of that.”

Theon stared at her, the flashlight turning his face into sharp angles and making his eyes seem enormous in their sockets. “You can’t tell my mum,” he said hastily; such a thing never would’ve occurred to her, but she nodded. 

“I won’t.”

“Or Dag. He hasn’t had trouble with the law in years, but if he knew… I think he might actually kill someone.”

 _‘Hopefully that bastard dealer,’_ Sansa thought viciously. _‘Or better yet, let me do it.’_

Theon scrubbed his face roughly with his hands. “So, that’s the long and the short of it. You’re not running for the hills yet, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I… _why?_ I’d run away from me if I could.”

“Because I don’t believe the things that happen to you have to define you,” Sansa said firmly. “Whatever mistakes you made, you didn’t deserve _that,_ and I won’t let it change how I see you.”

“And how’s that?” he asked tremulously. She moved in closer until their crossed legs touched, making sure he held her gaze, and placed her hands on both his knees.

“Someone brave, and strong, who got himself out of a terrible situation and is trying to get better. I’m amazed by the strength it must’ve taken to get help.”

“It was Yara. She came and got me out, forced me into rehab. That was two years ago.” He paused, letting her do the math on that one: on her first night in town he’d told her he was eleven months sober, which meant that sometime between then and now he must have had a relapse.

“From what I understand, it’s not unusual for someone to relapse, maybe even multiple times,” she said carefully. 

“No, it’s not,” he sighed, “and that’s why I needed to tell you all of this. Changes can trigger a relapse: new environments, new jobs… new relationships. I already tried jumping into a relationship too quickly, and it turned into a complete mess. And that was just kind of a casual thing, not like this. So I can’t- I don’t want that to happen here.”

“I don’t want that to happen either,” Sansa agreed. “But I want to give this a shot.”

“After what happened with- uh, with the other girl, I told myself I needed to stay single for the first year, focus entirely on recovery. It’s actually recommended, by the counselors,” he admitted sheepishly.

Sansa hummed thoughtfully. “End of this month marks one year, right? That’s hardly anything, we can do that. Get your one year under your belt, and then…” She trailed off, blushing; gods, she sounded like a silly girl in a romcom, not the mature adult she was. “We can take this as slow as you need, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“That… yeah, that sounds good,” Theon breathed. He was already starting to loosen up, seeming much more like himself again, his green eyes so vulnerable as he looked at her; Sansa decided she never wanted to see him so frightened and miserable again. 

“Can I hug you?” she asked tentatively.

His lips trembled. Emotions flashed across his face almost too quickly to name, fear then embarrassment giving way to shame; but strongest of all was relief. He’d let himself be vulnerable around her, and she’d proven that trust had not been misplaced. Just as he had for her. “Please?”

She all but fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him tight and burying her face into chest. He shuddered even as he hugged back; she thought that maybe her arms were the only thing holding him together.

They stayed like that for a time, until Theon’s tremors eased and Sansa was certain she wouldn’t start crying. Eventually, she said, “we should get out of here. This place might be a good spot for brooding, but I think somewhere brighter is in order. Are you feeling steady enough to drive us back? We can take as long as you need.”

Theon nodded and reluctantly broke the hug, helping her to her feet, then together they started the trip back into town.

\---

Theon had to head to work at the docks, so once they got back to the bar they went their separate ways, with the promise that they’d call or text the other later. He’d offered to take her home first, but she insisted on seeing him back to his apartment and walking back alone. She didn’t really want to leave him, but they both agreed that they should take some time apart to process. Besides, the walk home would give her the chance to clear her head, and start planning.

When she got to the house she found it empty, with a sticky note left on the kitchen table.

_‘Since you’re not answering your damn phone, I guess this is my only other option. Out with Gendry for the day. Try to have your head out your ass by the time I get back. - AS’_

Giving into pettiness, Sansa used her thumbnail to scratch an extra ‘S’ into the paper after Arya’s initials, then paused to examine her handiwork. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t make her feel any better. She grimaced, balling up the note and putting it in the kitchen bin. She’d allowed herself a moment’s indulgence, but now she had work to do. 

She pulled out her laptop and a mostly-empty notebook, and started searching for information about supporting an addict. Some of the articles she found were about family and friends; others were about romantic partners. She wasn’t sure where Theon fell along those lines, so she read multiple just to be safe. After almost two hours she took a break to look over her notes: she groaned when she saw that the notebook page was only half full. 

It wasn’t that there was a lack of information available. If anything, there was too much, and a lot of it was contradictory. A lot of support groups were religious in nature, though they mostly seemed based in the Faith of the Seven, which she couldn’t see Theon being interested in. That led her to search for articles geared towards followers of the Drowned God, but that only caused her to lose twenty minutes reading a paper about the prevalence of addiction among the ironborn before she realized it was from an anthropological journal and didn’t offer any practical advice. 

Even more challenging was figuring out what to do with the _other_ bombshell Theon had dropped. There was no doubt in her mind that what occurred between him and this dealer wasn’t consensual, but he’d been so adamant that it had been. The therapist her mum forced her to see after the accident had talked a lot about how survivors might suppress or misremember traumatic events in order to cope; they might even make such changes intentionally because the fantasy was more bearable than reality. Sansa didn’t want to think about whether that applied to her (and oh yes, the irony of that was scalding) but it definitely seemed the case with Theon.

Unfortunately, the stupid therapist hadn’t told her what to do about that! It didn’t seem right to not challenge this false narrative and thereby tacitly support it, but it also felt wrong to demand that he cope according to her rules. Then, there was also that nagging worry: what if it really _had_ been consensual? Who was she to define Theon’s own experiences for him? It was all very confusing, and near enough to make her scream her frustration. If only she could just _ask_ someone outright-

Sansa straightened in her chair, pen dropping from her hand. There was someone she could ask; it was so obvious now she couldn’t believe she didn’t think of it earlier. She grabbed her phone and pulled up Shae’s number. The older girl had been a TA during Sansa’s introductory literature seminar, and they’d gotten to know each other very well after Sansa had angrily exploded on some other first years for callously reducing the protagonist of Kate Chopin’s _The Awakening_ to simply a bad mother, instead of a layered character trapped by societal rules. After class let out, Shae had taken her aside to talk about her thoughts on the book, and had given her some tips for better presenting her argument the next time she invariably disagreed with her classmates’ interpretations. 

From there they quickly became friends and stayed in touch even after the course ended; it was only later that Shae had confided in her about having worked as a hooker when she first immigrated from Lorath. Sansa had been very naïve about the whole thing, and asked a lot of questions that in hindsight were probably insulting, but Shae had been very gracious. She’d emphasized that she could only speak for her own experiences, not for all sex workers; but surely if anyone could help her work through this, it would be Shae.

She did her best to summarize the problem, leaving her relationship with Theon vague, and hit send before she could overthink it. Almost immediately her phone started to ring; but it was Bran, not Shae, and her heart began to pound.

“What’s wrong?” she said in lieu of a proper greeting. The connection was spotty, but she could still see him roll his eyes at her in response.

“‘Hi, Bran, so nice to hear from you, how are you?’” Bran said, putting on a truly atrocious impression of her voice before switching back to his normal voice and continuing, “well thank you, Sansa, it’s nice to hear from you too! I just wanted to reach out and see how my favorite older sister’s doing!”

“You are such a liar!” Sansa laughed.

“Okay fine, but you sounded way too much like Mum there. Gods, she’s driving me crazy, she calls me every day acting like I’m at death’s door!” he complained. Sansa tried to feel some sympathy- she knew her mum and Bran were close, and was sure that him being away from home was sending her protective-instincts into overdrive- but she couldn’t help being a little jealous. Catelyn hadn’t called her or Arya once since they got here, just the occasional text. Usually Sansa could chalk it up to her being so involved in her work, but this made it harder.

“So, how’s camp? What are the kids like?” she asked.

Bran shrugged flippantly. “Eh, it’s fine. They do activities, and have PT, and there’s lots of talk about _feelings.”_

“Thrilling,” she said dryly. “So, was it worth giving up your summer for?”

“Oh hells yeah!” A dreamy look came over his face. “Jojen kissed me the other day and I can’t stop thinking about it, he’s so perfect!”

“Mhmm, what’s next, are you going to start doodling ‘Mister Bran Reed’ on all your notebooks?” she teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “We’ll hyphenate. I’m a modern man.”

“Gods you’re even more boy crazy than I was!”

“Funny you should mention that…” Bran said. 

_‘Oh no,’_ Sansa thought: there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes that could only mean trouble.

“What’s the deal with you and Theon Greyjoy?”

“I’m going to kill her,” she declared.

“Kill who?”

“You know who, _Arya,_ that’s who!”

“So there is something going on between you two,” he confirmed.

Sansa groaned, “it’s complicated! And delicate, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go tell Robb and Jon, or laugh about it like Arya-”

“Oh, is _that_ what you thought she was doing?” Bran interrupted. “That makes a lot more sense now.”

“What does?” she asked warily.

“Arya told me you yelled at her and stormed out of your little beach party last night, and she couldn’t figure out why,” he explained.

“‘Couldn’t figure out-’” Sansa repeated indignantly. “She was _pointing_ and _laughing_ at us!”

“No, she wasn’t,” Bran said, then amended, “well, okay, ‘technically’ she did point and laugh, but not in the way you seem to think. Your new friend from last night was telling her that you said you and Theon were just friends, and Arya said something like, ‘looks like that’ll change soon enough.’”

“But… the laughing…” Sansa hesitated. She might’ve been drunk as a skunk, but there’s no way she made that up.

“Arya laughs all the time, that’s just how she is,” Bran reminded her. “She acted like she was all pissed off, but I could tell that she was more hurt by the way you left. I really don’t think she meant anything mean by it.”

Looking back on it, that actually made a lot of sense. Sure, she and Arya gave each other plenty of grief, but they were also the first to defend the other. Even with her teasing, Arya had actually been really supportive of her and Theon together, even trying to give Sansa the push she needed. Whatever fears Sansa had projected onto her sister’s actions last night, they didn’t reflect Arya’s real intentions.

“Shit. I really fucked up.”

“Yep,” Bran agreed. “Good news is, now you can fix it. And, you got yourself a boyfriend out of it, so win-win!”

“He’s not-” she protested weakly. “We- we’re taking it slow. He’s got baggage. We both do.”

“So do I. About thirty-five extra pounds of it.” If he saw her wince at the casual reference to his chair, he either chose not to say anything or didn’t care. “But I’m not letting that stop me from living, and neither should you.”

It was hard to argue when he put it like that. After the accident she’d shied away from reflecting on how traumatized she was, afraid that doing so would take attention away from Bran’s recovery, when instead they could’ve helped each other. Maybe it was a bit late, but they could still be supportive in other ways.

She smiled fondly at him. “You amaze me.”

“ _Gah,_ nope, none of that! I refuse to be your inspiration porn!” Bran declared. “I just think it’s really pathetic that I’m getting some dick and you aren’t.”

“Ew, no, shut up _shut up!”_ she cried.

“Just sayin’…” he drawled

“I’m gonna vomit.”

“It’s completely natural, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’re the worst.”


	7. Interlude I

After hanging up with Bran, Sansa cleaned up in the yard- where she was pleasantly surprised to find the worst of the mess had already been picked up- then settled on the couch and lost several hours obsessively scouring the internet for more information. It wasn’t until late evening that Arya came back, Nymeria loping along at her side. She made quite the ruckus as she went, letting the front door bang shut behind her and kicking her boots halfway across the room: Arya could move near-silent when she chose to, so this was clearly all a show, made all the more obvious by the way she studiously ignored Sansa’s presence. Nymeria gave Sansa a baleful glare, but otherwise copied her human’s icy demeanor.

Arya breezed past the lounge where Sansa was and headed straight for their shared room, giving the door a truly impressive slam; Sansa briefly wondered if she practiced the best technique for that on her own time. She glanced at her laptop and the notebook, now with several pages full of notes, and couldn’t help feeling strangely guilty. It was all well and good to help Theon, but she couldn’t let herself neglect her relationship with her sister. Arya deserved an apology for her behavior last night, or at the very least an explanation.

The tricky part, of course, was that admitting fault basically went against every rule in the sibling handbook: a straightforward “I’m sorry” felt too fake. So, she’d have to try a different approach. Setting aside her research, Sansa went to the kitchen and made a large pot of macaroni cheese- heavy on the cheese- with the curly noodles that Arya always insisted were superior to the plain elbows. Usually the smell would’ve brought Arya running, but not this time, which only reaffirmed how dire the situation was. Once it was cooked Sansa scooped the macaroni into two bowls, setting them on an old platter she’d dug out, and grabbed a bottle of sriracha before heading to the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, calling, “Arya? You hungry?”

Silence. Then: “is that mac ‘n cheese?”

“Yep. Extra cheese.”

“Did you get-”

“Got the hot sauce. Can I come in?”

“… fine.” Arya opened the door begrudgingly and snatched up a bowl and the hot sauce, leaving the door open in a sort-of invitation while she returned to the giant beanbag she’d been sitting on. Usually Arya kept it stuffed under her bed, but now she’d pulled it out and put it in the space between their halves of the room. Sansa followed her into the room, setting the tray on her bed and leaning against it with her own bowl in hand. She watched Arya methodically dumping sriracha on her macaroni cheese, burrowed into the massive beanbag: they’d had it since they were little, the white fuzz grown slightly dingy with age and repeated washings. They used to cuddle up on it after one too many of Jon’s scary stories had them too spooked to sleep alone. 

Tentatively, Sansa crept closer, nudging the plush seat with her toe and saying, “room enough for one more?”

Arya shrugged. “Whatever.” That was probably as close to permission as she’d get, so Sansa took it and squished in next to her sister. The two girls ate in silence, until the only sound was the scrape of metal forks against the ceramic of their empty bowls.

“So, I talked with Bran,” Sansa started. “Pretty sure he and Jojen are gonna be going steady by the end of summer.”

“‘Going steady,’ shit, have you been watching too much Jon Hughes again?” Arya said derisively.

Sansa huffed. “First of all, there’s no such thing as too much Jon Hughes. And second, there is no such thing as too much Jon Hughes!”

“Seven hells, give me a Quentyn Tarantino movie and call it a day,” Arya grumbled, but couldn’t keep a smile from sneaking out across her face; this was an old argument of theirs, one they still clung to less because they truly cared about the subject and more out of a sense of principle. 

“ _Anyways,_ Bran and I talked, and he- well, I guess he gave me a new perspective. What happened last night at the party… when I was dancing with Theon, I saw you pointing, and I thought you were laughing at us. Mocking us.”

Arya startled against her. “What? Sans, _no,_ I wouldn’t-”

“I know,” Sansa cut her off. “I know that now. I was being oversensitive, and projecting my own issues onto you.”

“It didn’t help that you were super fucking drunk, too.”

“That too,” Sansa admitted. “Point being, I was way out of line, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You really fuckin’ scared me running off like that,” Arya confessed. “But I suppose I get why you did. I wouldn’t make fun of you, not for that anyways.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously!” she exclaimed. “You really feel something for him, huh? And he feels the same about you.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, he does,” she said. “We talked about it earlier.”

 _“And?”_ Arya demanded.

“And it’s… complicated. He-” Sansa froze, struggling to figure out what to say next, how to make her sister understand the trauma Theon had suffered while also respecting his privacy. “He’s been hurt, so bad. _So bad._ And he needs some time, but I think we’re finally on the same page about how we feel.”

“That really sucks,” Arya said bluntly. “I’m glad that you’re working things out, though. It’s been clear from the moment we got here how crazy the two of you are about each other.”

Sansa flushed at that last statement. “I feel silly about that, like I was the last one to know.”

“Oh you _definitely_ were!” Arya teased. “Crushes visible from outer space, the both of you! That’s what made me laugh, last night, cause it was so obvious to everyone except you. You’re different when you’re with him.”

She didn’t quite know what to make of that. “Oh?”

“It’s like, you laugh more. You’re…” Arya paused like she was searching for a word. “Lighter. He seems happier around you, too. And that’s the whole point, innit?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Sansa smiled, and tucked her head into Arya’s shoulder; Arya huffed but wrapped an arm around her anyways.

“Now that we got that mush outta the way, I know how you can make it up to me…” Arya drawled. _Well, looks like that did it for the sisterly bonding!_

“Go on,” Sansa said, looking up to meet her sister’s smirk with narrowed eyes.

“I need the room tomorrow night.”

“Oh… kay?”

“ _Gendry_ and I need the room tomorrow night,” she clarified. 

“Oh!”

“For sex purposes.”

“Seven hells, yeah I got that!” she sputtered. “You can have the whole house to yourself!”

“Really?” Arya asked. “Cause you could always take Robb and Jon’s room, they won’t mind-”

“Nope, I wanna be far away from all of _that,”_ Sansa declared, gesturing vaguely at Arya’s everything. Knowing your siblings had sex was one thing, actually hearing it was another: and the beach house’s walls were pretty thin.

“Just as well, Gendry can get pretty loud,” Arya said, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

Uncomfortable sex-talks aside, Sansa was glad to have gotten things cleared up with Arya; though, a part of her worried that it was only a matter of time before they were back at each other’s throats.

\---

Sansa had been worried that Theon’s confession- and the upcoming deadline of his one year of sobriety- would ruin the easy comfort of their not-relationship, but it seemed those concerns were unwarranted. The next day when she told Theon about her upcoming sexile he immediately offered his company, suggesting they go see a movie at the tiny box theatre in town. Sansa of course jumped at the prospect, eager for another not-date; even though they’d agreed to keep things platonic for now, there was still that same simmering undercurrent that had been there before, only now she was willing to accept it for what it was. They just had to stick to the plan, get through this week together-

And then she would date the fuck out of Theon Greyjoy. She’d date him so hard he wouldn’t know what hit him.

 _Alright, maybe that was a bit much,_ she was willing to admit to herself. But it got the point across.

When she got to the theatre that evening Theon was waiting for her outside, leaning comfortably against the building wall. Even though it had only been a day, her heart leapt at the sight of him. With all the worrying she’d been doing over him, it had been easy to forget how beautiful he was, hair damp and curling like he’d just come from the water- which, knowing Theon, he probably had. Cat had insisted that all of her children learn to swim, but none of them could match Theon’s natural grace in the water. 

His face lit up when he spotted her and he gave a jaunty little wave. She hesitated only a moment before going in for a hug, telegraphing her movement so he could pull back; but he surged forward into the hug, holding her tight. 

“How’d work go?” she asked once they’d parted.

“Pretty good,” he said. “Even with the usual tourist nonsense. C’mon, I’ll tell you more about it after the movie.”

“What are we watching?” White Harbor’s only movie theatre was ridiculously tiny and took forever to get new films. There was only one screen and what played was usually either something pretentious chosen by wannabe film makers, or children’s movies. Privately, Sansa was shocked they’d managed to stay in business for as long as they had.

“Looks like _Crazy Rich Asshai’i._ Town council kept getting complaints about never having new movies so they finally caved,” Theon explained, giving their tickets to the bored teenager at the counter. 

“No way, I’ve been wanting to see that!” Sansa said excitedly. It had come out months ago but she never got around to seeing it. All she knew was that Melisandre Redd was the headliner, and that the film had gotten fantastic reviews.

“You always did love your romances,” he teased. 

“You’re just lucky the new _Aemma_ isn’t out yet, otherwise I’d make you take me to the next town over. I never could resist Jeyne Austen.”

The new material must have been a success because the theatre was nearly full, so the two of them quickly found their seats just as the previews started. 

“Alright, now tell me more about these tourists,” she demanded.

“Oh, it’s the same story,” Theon said with a laugh. “There’s always someone who doesn’t understand that you still get wet while on a boat, or bitches about having to wear the vest.”

“There’s always someone,” she agreed.

“And then, I had this one guy who was convinced the whole time we were out that we were gonna get attacked by sharks.”

_“Sharks?”_

_“Sharks!_ I have no idea why he even got on the boat at all!” he exclaimed. “So, that was my day. What’d you do?”

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “Made up with Arya, which was about as much fun as it sounds. But I’m glad I did it.” She sighed. “I just hate fighting with her, but sometimes it seems like it’s inevitable. I try so hard not to, and I know she does too, then we always end up exploding at each other over the stupidest reason.”

“Siblings can be difficult,” he sympathized.

“But it’s not like that with the boys, just Arya,” Sansa protested. 

“Maybe it’s cause you’re the same gender? Rod and Maron always seemed to hate me, but mostly things are fine with me and Yara.”

“Dad used to say it was because we’re so different. Like the sun and the moon, he called us.” It felt strange to talk about her father like this, but also good; it was so rare that she spoke about him at all lately, even rarer to just talk about him and not the accident. 

“I still can’t believe she sexiled you,” Theon said.

“It was more of a mutual sexiling,” she corrected, though she was secretly pleased by him being annoyed on her behalf. “I don’t want to risk seeing or hearing any of it.”

Theon winced. “Fair point. Major downside of living with my sister. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that she and Dany are doing well, but I kinda wish they were a little less… enthusiastic.”

“Exactly! As far as I’m concerned, they’re playing a game of _Monarchy,”_ she declared.

“I don’t think you can play _Monarchy_ with only two players?” The lights darkened, signaling the previews were coming to an end and the movie was about to begin.

“I dunno, maybe Nymeria can be their third?” she giggled, imagining the dog pushing a playing token around the board with her nose. Someone behind them shushed her, so she ducked her head in closer to hear him.

“Whatever the case, I’m glad you decided to spend time with me,” he murmured in her ear, leaning over their shared armrest. His arm pressed against hers, the skin still sun-warmed, and she had to bite back a grin when he kept it there.

\---

They stayed that way the entire movie, moving only to stretch or shift in their seats. Theon didn’t even try the classic “yawn-and-reach”, which she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed about, though she was plenty entertained by the movie. When it ended she found she didn’t want to get up because then she wouldn’t have an excuse to keep touching him. Right now they were still technically just two friends seeing a movie together; anything more might violate their agreement.

Theon solved the problem by brushing the back of his hand against hers as they walked, gentle enough that it could be dismissed as accidental if it wasn’t for the way he looked at her. Slowly, Sansa tilted her palm towards him, giving him the option; he took it, lacing their fingers together, and her heart soared.

“So, what’d you think of the movie?” Theon asked.

“I really liked it, it definitely lived up to the hype!” Sansa gushed. “I thought the part with the cyvasse game was especially clever.”

“Good, cause I don’t know the first thing about cyvasse so I had no idea if they were just pulling that out of their asses!” he laughed.

“It was really smart,” she insisted. “She fought for him using her best weapon, her mind. I loved seeing that.

“Melisandre’s character, Aemma… I’m starting to see a pattern here,” Theon mused. 

She made a sound of faux indignation. “I just know how I like my leading ladies! Being strong and smart doesn’t mean you can’t also be kind. It’s the kind of story I’d like to write, if I ever wrote a book.”

“I think you’d be really good at that.” Warmth bloomed in her chest at his words, and she suddenly felt the desperate need to change the subject. 

“Now, where to next?” Sansa asked him.

“I suppose you don’t want to go back to the house just yet?”

“Probably best to give them some more time. You know how long _‘Monarchy’_ can go.”

“Oh, definitely,” Theon teased. “Well, there’s the pub. Tuesday’s trivia night, so you’d have to put up with my mum and Dag, maybe even Yara.”

“Come off it, your family’s great!” Sansa said, knocking her shoulder against his. Theon hummed in agreement, even as his shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly; clearly she’d made a misstep, though she couldn’t imagine how so. 

“Let’s head to the pub, I’m starving,” she said brightly, hoping to distract him.

Theon gave a tiny smile. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

They continued onwards, setting off in search of pub food and trivia. Dagmer’s pub was a lively, warm establishment that had stood for almost fifty years, though he had only been the owner for a little over a decade. As befitted a place called ‘The Merman’s Court,’ the walls and even the floor were covered with images of merlings and sea creatures. Old fishing nets drooped from the rafters, decorated with beach finds: sea stars and clamshells, pieces of driftwood, even a used lifebuoy. 

Once inside, they found an empty table and sat down. The pub was more occupied than she’d expected, possibly due to the trivia game. While Theon went to get them drinks from the bar- club soda for him, a gin and tonic for her- she took the opportunity to turn her phone back on and check her messages. She had a text waiting from Arya.

**Arya Stark (18:00): [house is clear, going to pub now. need nachos!!!!!]**

Well, at least that was taken care of, Sansa thought. There was no way she’d have gone back to the house without confirming it was safe.

**Sansa Stark (18:34): [ok we’re there now]**

**Sansa Stark (18:35): [wanna do trivia with us?]**

**Arya Stark (18:40): [oh HELLS yesss! save us a table!]**

The response made Sansa laugh; her sister’s competitive streak extended beyond just sports. When it came to trivia games their differences actually came in handy, as she could take the history questions while Arya took geography. Put that together with Gendry’s math smarts and Theon’s knowledge of natural sciences, and they made a pretty solid team.

She was thinking of possibly team names when Theon returned with their drinks- and with his mother. He shot her an apologetic look as he set down the drinks and pulled out a chair for Alannys.

“Oh, um, hi, Ms. Harlaw.” Sansa tried to cover her awkwardness with a laugh.

“Hello sweetling!” she trilled, planting a noisy kiss on Sansa’s cheek. Tonight her batik dress was nautical-themed, matching her beaded headscarf, and her bracelets were especially chunky. “How was your date?”

“Not a date, Mama,” Theon hissed. She flapped a hand dismissively, bangles clinking like windchimes.

“Yes baby, ‘not a date,’” Alannys said indulgently, not breaking her gaze from Sansa’s. “So, did you have a good time?”

Sansa shot Theon a quick look, flickering to where his hand lay on the table just out of reach. “Yeah, I think so. We were gonna play some trivia, we’re just waiting for Arya and Gendry now.”

Alannys clapped her hands together excitedly. “How lovely!”

“And _hey,_ don’t you have to go help Dad set up for that?” Theon said rather pointedly. His mother rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, clearly I’ve been dismissed, but I’ll be back later to embarrass him some more!” she said with a wink, before leaving in a swirl of colorful fabrics. Theon let out a relieved breath before moving over to the chair his mother had been occupying, making it so that now the two of them were sat close enough for their legs to touch under the table.

 _“Wow,_ sorry about that,” he chuckled nervously. “I didn’t tell her we were dating or anything, I swear.”

“It’s your parents’ pub, it’d be weird if I didn’t run into either of them,” Sansa assured him. “And I don’t mind her making the assumption, if you don’t. We’re still taking this as slow as you need; friends can go see movies together!”

They were still sipping their drinks, heads bent close together in conversation, when Arya and Gendry arrived. The two of them were perfectly presentable, though Arya was uncharacteristically giggly for reasons Sansa very much did not want to think about. Arya dropped her bag into the seat next to Sansa, while Gendry took the spot between his girlfriend and Theon. 

“Alrighty, I need nachos, stat!” Arya declared. “Everyone had better start coming up with good team names by the time I’m back.” Gendry watched her walk away, an entirely too smug grin on his face; he only looked back when Sansa snapped her fingers at him and cleared her throat loudly, though he still looked inordinately pleased with himself.

“Hey, I need you thinking with your actual brain here, because we play to win,” Sansa said, making Theon stifle a laugh in his fist; she was only sort of joking, and both guys knew it. “Now c’mon, let’s hear some ideas.”

“Let’s Get Quizzical,” Theon suggested instantly.

“Quiz Me Baby One More Time,” Gendry offered.

“Quizzness in the Front, Party in the Back-”

“You two know that ‘quiz’ doesn’t have to be in the name, right?” Sansa groaned. Theon and Gendry ignored her, too busy trying to one-up the other with bad quiz-related puns. They soon moved on from quiz puns to other things, with Sansa quickly shooting down their suggestions of ‘Girls Gone Wildling’ and ‘I Bless the Rains Down in Castamere’.

“Ooh, how about ‘Arya’ Ready For This?” Gendry said when Arya came back to the table, juggling two pints and a massive bowl of nachos.

“Sense and ‘Sansa’-bility?” Theon quipped. Sansa dropped her head to the table with an audible thunk.

“That really the best you dorks got?” Arya complained. “Nah, if we’re going with a name pun then we’re doing Stark Raving Mad!”

Eventually, for lack of better suggestions, that ended up being what Sansa wrote on the top of their trivia sheet. Better that than a ridiculous quiz pun, she figured. Soon Dagmer was tapping on the microphone for the bar’s attention.

“Welcome to Trivia Night, here at the Merman’s Court! Rules are simple: questions will be read aloud, by me lovely wife, and displayed on the projector. Meanwhile ye’ll have sixty seconds to answer on yer sheet. At the end of the night we’ll check yer answers and announce the winning team- and there’ll be no arguing over the results, and absolutely no cheating!” He handed the microphone over to Alannys, who blew him a kiss as he walked over to man the projector.

“Question number one!” Alannys began, reading off her notes. “What are the nine man-made wonders of the world?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Sansa declared, quickly writing each wonder out. “Valyrian roads, the Wall-”

“The Titan of Braavos,” Arya interjected.

“Yep, got it. Triple walls of Qarth, three bells of Norvos, bridge of Volantis… shit, three more!”

“Palace of Sarnath and pyramids of Ghis,” Gendry chimed in.

“That just leaves the five forts of Yi Ti,” Theon finished up for them, Sansa writing it out just in time for the next question.

“Question two: when did Nymeria of Ny Sar set sail with her ten-thousand ships?”

“700 BC!” Arya answered immediately; history might not have been her favorite subject, but she definitely knew that detail about one of her idols.

“Question three: which kingdoms fought in the Ghiscari Wars?”

“Um, Old Ghis and Valyria,” Theon said.

“Yes, but it’s a trick question, Sarnor also fought in the third war,” Sansa corrected a little hesitantly: her past boyfriends had hated when she showed them up at something. But Theon only nodded appreciatively.

“Oh, nice,” he said. “Good catch!”

They flew through the rest of the questions in a similar fashion, with each teammate playing to their strengths. As they played, Sansa noticed that Arya seemed to have developed a new fascination with everything Braavosi, quickly answering any question relating to its history or culture whether it was the name for Braavosi fencing or reciting the first law of Braavos; she briefly wondered what brought about this interest, but then the next question was being asked and she had to focus on that. 

“- which playhouse in Braavos was made famous by hosting Willem Shakspear’s plays?”

That was one Sansa knew the answer to, but Arya still said, “the Dome!”

“Since when do you know so much about Braavos?” Sansa hissed back. Arya looked like she was about to give a snappy retort when Alannys read the last question.

“What was the fifth Blackfyre rebellion also known as?”

Sansa quickly wrote out the answer- ‘War of the Ninepenny Kings’- and turned back to Arya, but it seemed like her sister had already moved on from whatever she was going to say. 

“And with that, we’ve reached the end of the game!” Dagmer announced, coming back over to join his wife. “Bring yer answer sheet over to the bar, and get yerself a drink while we look over ‘em and decide the winner.”

“I’ve got it, anyone want anything else while I’m up?” Sansa volunteered.

“Pretzels!” Arya called after her; Sansa flapped a hand over her shoulder in acknowledgement, then made her way over to the bar. Yara was working tonight, serving double duty as bartender and quiz-grader. 

“Right then, Stark, anything else?” Yara asked, taking the paper from her. 

“Another tonic and some more pretzels, please.”

“Right.” She set about getting the gin and soda, pouring them over ice and stirred. “So,” Yara said casually, adding the lime garnish, “you and my brother.”

Sansa froze, her hand halfway to taking the drink. “Um…”

“Don’t bother denying it, you’re too smart for that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sansa replied primly. “But if you have questions about Theon’s personal life, you should really be asking him.”

Yara barked a laugh. “You got spunk, it’s cute. Listen, despite all appearances, this ain’t some sort of shovel talk.”

“Oh?” Actually, that wasn’t hard for Sansa to believe: she suspected that if Yara Greyjoy wanted to give someone a shovel talk, it would be in the most literal sense of the term.

“Nope,” Yara drawled, popping the ‘p’. “Just some real talk, girl to girl.” She leaned across the bar, close enough that she could grab Sansa if she so chose, though her hands remained clasped together. “I love Theon. He’s my baby brother, and I’d kill for him. But he’s a little fucked in the head, and if you can’t deal with that then you’re better off ending things now before they start. For both his sake and yours.”

Sansa stared her down, righteous fury warring with common sense; this was obviously some sort of test on Yara’s part, some game to make her flinch and prove that she’d break Theon’s heart. A part of her recognized this as Yara’s way of looking out for her little brother, even sympathized with her as a fellow older sister, but she had no intention of backing down.

“Like I said,” she ground out in a measured voice. “Theon’s personal life is just that: _personal._ He can make his own decisions.” She took her drink and drained it, setting the empty glass back on the bar a little harsher than strictly necessary before turning to go- then realized she’d forgotten the pretzels.

Having to double back for the pretzels only slightly diminished the gravitas of her exit, but it was better that than try to explain to Arya why she’d come back without them. When she settled back into her chair, Theon apparently noticed that she seemed tense and commented as such, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze under the table. Sansa glanced back over at the bar where Yara stood, watching them with a sharp eye. She forced a smile and deliberately turned her chair so she no longer faced the bar.

“Yep, everything’s fine,” she lied smoothly. Sansa had already made up her mind about Theon, and decided she wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what Yara had to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my theme when writing this chapter was fitting in as many cheesy references as I could- did you spot them all??
> 
> Trivia questions came from [AWoIaF](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Main_Page), aka my writing bible. I wish I could claim the trivia names as my own creation, but they were all either inspired or taken directly from these listicals [here](https://www.scarymommy.com/trivia-team-names/) and [here](https://www.sporcle.com/blog/2017/12/game-of-thrones-trivia-team-names/).


	8. Interlude II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you somehow managed to escape my spamming the tumblr tag, I’m very excited to tell you about Theonsa Yuletide 2020! This is a play on classic Secret Santa fic exchanges, with a Westerosi twist: for more information please head to the AO3 [collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheonsaYule2020) page or the challenge tumblr, @theonsayule2020.

Team ‘Stark Raving Mad’ came in first, winning them their pictures on the trivia wall, eternal bragging rights (or at least until the next trivia night), and- most importantly- drink tickets that they immediately cashed in. Sure the prizes were ultimately kind of meaningless, but wasn’t that sort of the whole point? 

Sansa kept quiet about her confrontation with Yara, not wanting to spoil the evening, though it made her feel oddly guilty; it felt like she was keeping something from Theon. Which, technically, she was, but she suspected telling him would just make him feel bad, and she hated the thought of anything hurting him. Especially her. She resolved that she would talk to him about it later, if for no better reason so that he knew his sister was meddling in his business.

Eventually Arya and Gendry left to go meet up with friends, and feeling burned out by the crowded pub Sansa decided to head home. Theon walked her back to the beach house, their quiet conversation seeming far more intimate against the backdrop of White Harbor at night. When they reached the front door, they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. The yellow porch light smoothed some of the harshness from his features, the furrowed brow that hadn’t been there three years ago. Sansa thought it was fortunate that he had to work the next morning, otherwise she would’ve done something stupid like invite him inside. 

A goodbye kiss was out, and a handshake was far too formal, so they settled on a hug that lingered, their arms a cage protecting them both. The plans they’d made to hang out tomorrow suddenly seemed so far away. Sansa was the one to reluctantly break the hug, knowing that it would be too easy to stay there forever. After Theon left, she waited up until he sent a text letting her know he’d gotten back to his apartment fine; only then was she able to fall asleep.

The next morning, she burned with a nervous energy that wouldn’t abate. In an effort to distract herself, she and Arya took Nymeria out for a morning walk that later turned into a run when Nymeria slipped her leash; it took them a solid fifteen minutes to chase the wolfdog down, and by the time they finally caught her and made it back to the house they were both sweaty, exhausted, and covered with sand. Arya had called dibs on the shower, so Sansa collapsed at the kitchen table and nibbled on some breakfast while waiting her turn. When she checked her phone, she had a missed call with a voice message waiting for her.

_“Hello darling, so good to hear from you! My apologies for not texting back earlier, Ros and I were in Lorath for my cousin’s baptism and we only just got back. I’m so sorry for what your friend has gone through, you are very sweet to worry about him. Call me back when you get this and we can talk more!”_

Hearing Shae’s voice sent instant relief spreading through her like a hot drink on a cold winter day. Sansa was pretty used to falling into the role of “mom friend”, even with friends like Margaery and Randa who were older than her, but that dynamic was completely flipped with Shae. She was a proper adult, with a master’s degree and a fiancée and probably a 401(k), whatever that was. Sansa could be as confused and needy and weepy as she felt like, and Shae would help her set things right.

**Sansa (10:32): [hey thanks for calling! are you free now to talk?]**

**Shae (10:34): [yes!!! one moment love!!]**

“Sansa sweetling, hello!” Shae chirped on the other end. Sansa could almost picture her friend’s sweet face: a smile on her full lips, the faintest of lines on her olive skin as she tossed back her head and laughed like a tinkling bell, brown eyes dancing. When she told Sansa about her past, there’d been no shame in the telling: she was adamant that it was her choice, one she didn’t regret. It was so different from how Theon had been. He’d barely been able to tell her his story, unable to bring himself to call what happened to him what it was; he’d looked so afraid, so different from his usual grin. Like he was just waiting for her to treat him like something dirty.

Sansa opened her mouth to say hi back- and promptly burst into tears.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “S-seven hells, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s alright, just breathe,” Shae urged. “Take your time. We’re in no rush.” Sansa fought to calm down, stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep quiet so Arya wouldn’t hear. 

“Gods, I’m sorry, that just came out of nowhere,” she said once she got herself under some semblance of control.

“Ah yes,” Shae mused, “couldn’t have anything to do with learning your boyfriend was assaulted.”

Sansa would’ve glared at her if she could see her. “Okay, so _maybe_ that could be related.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Shae cheered, then continued on more seriously, “I am truly sorry for what he has gone through, he is very strong to have survived what he has.”

“He shouldn’t have to be,” she said sadly.

“No, he shouldn’t,” Shae agreed, “but he does. I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Well, from your text, it sounded like you were looking for advice from someone with a similar background,” she reminded her. “And if I know anything about you- which I do- you want to help him, take care of him.”

“I- yeah, I suppose so.”

“Listen, I can only speak from my own experiences, and the truth is there is not much more you can do than what you are already doing. It can take time to come to terms with something like this. I know it took years for me to recognize that some of the things that happened to me on the job were not okay, and even longer to accept that I did not deserve them. Listen to him, be that shoulder to cry on; remind him that he is more than what has been done to him.” 

“That doesn’t feel like enough, though,” Sansa said tentatively. “I should- I should be able to fix this for him.”

“But, my darling, you are only human. There is no magic solution for such a pain. You cannot erase his suffering, only ease it some.” Suddenly Shae’s voice sounded less calming and more pedantic, and Sansa felt herself becoming more and more frustrated.

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Sansa demanded. “He goes and he tells me about this awful thing that happened to him, and what am I supposed to _do_ with that information? What am I supposed to do, Shae, _tell me_ what to do!”

Shae let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, sweetling. You are not used to feeling helpless.”

“Maybe I should be,” Sansa said bitterly. “That seems to be all I do lately.” She thought about Yara’s words from the night before, how she’d basically dared Sansa to admit that she couldn’t handle Theon’s trauma. Sansa wanted so badly to prove that wrong, to make it known that she was in this for the long haul, but the weight of this task felt enormous.

Shae continued, “you have had far more than your fair share of sorrow, these last few years- you and this boyfriend have that in common. It is alright to be frustrated, and angry. You say you are helpless, but this is not so. Have you made a decision about the Highgarden program?”

Sansa blinked, startled by this abrupt change in topic. “Um, not yet. I’m not sure if I can, with the way things are at home.”

“What’s wrong, does your brother need another surgery?”

“No no, Bran’s doing great,” Sansa said hurriedly. She loved Shae for asking, even though it made apparent how stupid her actual reasons were. “It’s my- I’m sorry, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“A lot, actually,” Shae said. “I think you are stuck, and you know you need to make a change but you’re afraid you will fail. So you try to fix problems for other people, even the ones you cannot, because you need to feel useful.”

This blunt assessment left Sansa feeling stunned; she hadn’t realized she was so transparent. “Since when are you a psychologist?” she said, embarrassed.

Shae laughed. “You know what they say: prostitutes and bartenders, the next best thing to therapy!”

“I think you’ve just been reading Ros’ old psych textbooks again,” she teased.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Shae admitted mischievously. Sansa grumbled a bit, but didn’t have a comeback. “Look, you don’t need to make any decisions right now, but promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said. You shine too brightly to let fear hold you back.”

“I-I… okay, I will, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask. I’ve got to go now, but if you need to talk I’m always here for you, whether it’s about school or the boyfriend. I love you, darling.”

“Love you too.”

It was only after she hung up the phone that Sansa realized Shae had referred to Theon as her boyfriend a full three times, and she’d never once corrected her.

\---

Sansa stood on the docks waiting for Theon’s boat to get back in, hands fiddling impatiently with the handle of the cooler she’d packed their lunch in. He had another party of tourists trying to get some sightseeing in before the summer ended and they were running late getting back, as was often the case with tour groups. She knew that Theon loved anything that let him spend the day on the water, though he’d become frustrated as of late with the monotony of the jobs available at White Harbor. It was always either fishing or shuttling around tour groups, and lately he’d begun to want something more; after her talk with Shae, Sansa found she could relate.

The boat came in only about ten minutes late, so she wasn’t left waiting too long. The passengers disembarked while Theon tied up the ship, and soon they were alone on the dock and she was free to throw her arms around him with wild abandon. Theon laughed and hugged her back, his strong arms for a moment lifting her toes off the wooden dock. He set her down and pulled back, hands lingering on her hips.

“You’d think I hadn’t seen you in days,” he teased. 

Sansa gave a bashful smile and nodded towards the abandoned cooler. “I brought lunch. Figured we could get some time in together before you had to get back to work. Maybe fit in a swim if we can.”

“Actually, we’re closing up early today,” he said. “Repairs an’ shit. So it looks like I’m all yours.”

“Oh really?” she said playfully. “I rather like the sound of that.”

Theon grinned. “Well, in that case, what ya got it mind, Stark?”

They ate their lunch right on the docks, letting their bare feet dangle in the water; eventually they had to leave the marina so the work crew was unobstructed, so they went back to the Stark house. They laid out towels in the backyard and lounged in the sun like a pair of lizard-lions, their heads close enough to touch as they talked. Their conversation drifted aimlessly, until Sansa felt relaxed and sun-drunk; she could practically fall asleep like this, enveloped by the sound of the surf and Theon’s voice.

Then, their conversation took an unexpected turn: “So, I know that saying, ‘don’t freak out’ basically guarantees that you’ll freak out, but I really, _really_ don’t want you to freak out,” Theon said in a rush. “Yara told me that you guys talked last night, about this. Us.”

“Oh, I…” Sansa hesitated, thrown by the topic change. For a moment she wanted to evade, or deny it altogether, but she’d already told herself she would talk to him about it; besides, what good would it do? “There was definitely some talking, between me and your sister. Nothing major… some light threatening.”

Theon clapped a hand over his face and groaned. “Drowned God, I’d say I can’t believe her, except that’s just the kinda shit I should’ve expected from her!”

“‘Threatening’ is maybe an exaggeration,” Sansa said hurriedly. “At most there was a, an implication.”

Theon gave a dry laugh at that. “That’d require subtlety, and Yara’s never been subtle a day in her life. I told her to mind her own fucking business and stop harassing you.”

“I didn’t take it personally,” she assured him. “She’s your big sister, it’s normal for her to get protective. Robb freaked out when I started dating, and I was the same with Arya and Bran’s boyfriends.”

“I suppose,” he sighed. “It just, it feels like she doesn’t trust me. And I can’t really blame her for that, not after what I’ve put her through, but… sometimes it makes me think, what’s the point in getting better, if she’s just gonna treat me like I’m still the mess I was before?”

“Because you deserve to be happy.” When he gave a noncommittal shrug, she insisted, “you do. And you’re getting there. You’re just a little stuck right now.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“However you want to put it, I’m glad you told me,” Sansa said. “To be honest, lately I’ve felt the same way. Stuck.”

Theon propped his head up to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Does this mean we’re finally gonna talk about that grad program you’ve been avoiding mentioning?”

“Depends,” she said suspiciously. “What’re you going to say about it?”

“I think you should take it. The program,” he clarified. “You’d be fuckin’ fantastic at it. All those excuses you gave about why you shouldn’t do it, they’re all bullshit.”

She sighed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I know. I think I’ve always known. I actually talked about it earlier with a friend from uni, and that’s more or less what she told me. She thinks I’m holding myself back because I’m afraid of failing.”

“Smart friend.”

“Doesn’t hurt that her future wife is a therapist. But, what if she’s right?”

“Well, that’d be a good thing, yeah?”

Sansa sighed. “Maybe. But then I start to think, what else have I missed out on because I’ve been too afraid I’ll fail?”

“You’ll drive yourself mad thinking about what-ifs and maybes. I thought I’d leave White Harbor, finally get to go somewhere else. Then I got hurt, and all the rest, and it was hard not to think about what I’d missed out on.”

“You could still go somewhere,” she encouraged.

“I’m not like you, Sans, I’ve never been the book smart type,” he said morosely.

“So what?” Sansa demanded. “You know more about boats and sailing and the ocean than anyone I know; every time you go out on the water you have to do sums and navigation, calculate wind speeds, stuff I’ve always been shite with. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be difficult, but it’s not out of reach.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time just… surviving. Trying to get through each day. It’d be nice to have something else to work towards.”

Sansa gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay to just survive for a while, but I get it. And I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am that you’re ready for more.”

“Thanks again for being so chill about this,” he said bashfully. “Hey, promise me you’ll give your Highgarden thing a shot. You’re too good not to go for it.” 

Sansa was prepared to deflect, but the raw vulnerability in his eyes made her hesitate. This conversation felt far too reminiscent of her earlier talk with Shae: it forced her to question all the excuses she’d come up with for why she couldn’t go. Bran had made great strides in his recovery and would probably be ready to return to school for the winter term- and with Arya going to school so near to home, she could check in on Mum and Rickon. This summer had shown Sansa that Arya was more responsible than she gave her credit for. Maybe it was time for Sansa to stop shouldering all her family’s problems and focus on her own dreams; wouldn’t her dad want that for her?

“Only if you promise the same,” she said at last. If she deserved to be a little selfish, then so did Theon. “You’re so good, Theon. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

“I might be starting to.” Theon looked over her, something unreadable in his eyes. “I know waiting was my idea, but I would _really_ like to kiss you right now.”

Sansa blushed. “Me too. But, I don’t think we should start this with a broken promise.”

“I know, you’re right,” he groaned. “Still. Just so you know.”

Sansa raised a mischievous eyebrow. “C’mon, I know what’ll make you feel better. Race you to the water!” 

She was already up before she’d even finished getting the words out, heels kicking up sand as she raced down to the waterfront. Theon swore and shot to his feet to chase after her, his long legs quickly eating up the distance between them. He caught up to her just as they hit the surf, arms catching her around the waist. Sansa shrieked in delight, kicking her legs out and sending an arc of water through the air as he spun them both around. 

The wet sand shifted treacherously under their feet and sent them sprawling; Theon landed smack on his ass in the ocean, somehow managing to catch Sansa before their faces knocked together. Giggling, Sansa tried to right herself but only managed to splash water over the both of them with her flailing. In a matter of moments they were completely soaked through and laughing breathlessly at their own ridiculousness. 

“Feel better?” Sansa asked.

“I definitely feel sandier,” Theon grumbled. “Ugh, I hate sand.”

“Oh? Because it’s-” she leaned in and pitched her voice deeper, “- rough and coarse and gets everywhere?”

“That’s not fair, I’m way better looking than Anakin Skywalker!”

“You’ve definitely got better hair,” she teased. Theon might have gone through plenty of unfortunate style choices as a kid, but at least he never had a rattail. “And you’ve got a cuter butt.”

Theon gasped. “Why, Miss Stark, are you trying to _seduce_ me?”

“And here I thought I was being subtle…”

“I’ll have you know I’m saving myself for a very special lady!”

Sansa slapped the surface of the water, sending it spraying over him; Theon retaliated, splashing water back at her, and things quickly developed into a full-out splash battle. Eventually, with the sun starting to go down, the water became too cold for them to comfortably stay, so they trekked back to the house. They took turns in the shower rinsing off the sand- luckily Sansa had a pair of oversized sweats that fit him, and she still had the jacket he’d loaned her- and dumped their wet clothes in the washer, then went to the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner.

There was a chill in the evening air but the night was just too beautiful to stay inside, so they built a fire in the pit out back and huddled close in blankets they’d nicked from the linen closet. Pressed up against Theon’s side under the same blanket, her hands cupping a mug of soup, she felt the sort of peace that only seemed to come with being around Theon.

“We should do something for your one year,” she declared, breaking the silence. “I know there’s the ceremony, but we should do something to celebrate, just us. What would you like to do?”

“Camping,” he said immediately. 

She blinked. “Really?”

Theon quickly tried to backpedal. “I mean, if you want to, too. I just, I haven’t camped in ages, and surprisingly Yara isn’t really the woodsy type-”

She cut him off gently. “You don’t have to convince me, I was just surprised you knew so instantly. I love it, camping sounds great; we can take the van out into the woods, have a fire and sleep under the stars!” 

The thought made her smile so hard her face hurt: the next couple days couldn’t pass soon enough. It would be like the trips she’d take with her siblings, only far more romantic. The woods could get cold at night even in the summers, and she couldn’t wait to get to cuddle up with him without any pretenses. She burrowed closer into Theon’s side and he tucked the blankets tighter around them both; she found herself nodding off, and though she tried to keep her eyes open she was powerless to fight it.

When she awoke in the middle of the night some hours later, she was met with the smoldering remains of their fire, and Arya, who stood over them grinning far too smugly for Sansa’s liking. 

“Comfy?” she snarked.

Sansa let out a yawn and scrubbed at her sleep-crummy eyes. “Actually, yes. Care to join?”

“Hells no, I’m gonna sleep in my bed like a civilized person!”

Theon stretched and checked the time, his swear when he realized how late it was stopping the girls bickering. “Ah shite, I’d better head back home.”

Sansa wilted. “Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to the couch, or we could make up one of the boys’ beds, I’m sure we’ve got extra bedding stashed away-”

Theon cut her off before she got ahead of herself. “That’s really sweet of you, but if I don’t go home Yara’s likely to send out the cavalry to drag me back.”

“Alright…” Sansa was disappointed, but after their talk she understood how important Yara’s opinion of him was, even though she privately felt his sister’s hovering was unnecessary. They picked up the blankets and empty soup mugs, and she reluctantly walked him to the door. 

“So, all the camping stuff should still be in storage,” she said, dawdling. “I’ll pack up everything up tomorrow and we’ll leave bright and early the next morning.”

“I’m working most of tomorrow, are you sure?”

“Of course! I’ve got this! You just have to show up, I’ll do the rest.”

Theon’s smile glowed in the lamplight. “Sounds like a plan. Night, Sans. And-” he looked past her shoulder where Arya was lurking in the shadows, “- goodnight, Arya Underfoot!” 

Arya squawked indignantly at the old nickname, he hurried to escape her wrath- but not before doubling back to press a tentative kiss to Sansa’s cheek. Blushing furiously, Sansa gave a little dumbstruck wave at his retreating form, giggling to herself. She waited until the dark swallowed him up before shutting the door.

When she turned around, Arya was still standing there, leaned up against the wall with her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“You going to bed, or would you rather sleep out back?” Arya teased.

“Oh, shut it,” Sansa grumbled halfheartedly, still unable to keep the smile from her face. “We only dozed off for a bit.”

“Maybe you did, but Theon didn’t,” Arya said casually. “He was awake when I got here. Just sorta watching you sleep. It was kinda cute, in a creepy teen-vampire kinda way.”

Sansa hadn’t been sure it was possible to turn any redder than she already was, but judging by Arya’s laughter, apparently she did. Before Arya could start in on teasing her some more, Sansa’s phone began buzzing insistently. She opened it to find a series of rapid-fire texts, followed by a selfie: the face that filled the screen was one Sansa knew almost as well as her own.

“What is it?” Arya asked, leaning over to see.

Sansa looked up, smiling gleefully. “It’s Myranda, she’s back in town!”

Growing up, Myranda Royce and her father had always been a staple of the Starks’ White Harbor summers, much like the Seaworths’ and Theon’s family had been. Myranda’s presence now felt like a little slice of those summers back. If Sansa closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she heard the sound of their fathers working on adding a new addition to the house, Ned’s quiet laugh at Yohn’s jokes almost drowned out by the power tools. Even though they texted regularly, Sansa hadn’t properly seen Myranda since her dad’s funeral; Ned and Yohn, Myranda’s dad, had been good friends, and they’d both showed up to support the remaining Starks.

The two girls quickly set about making plans to meet up in the morning. Judging by Myranda’s texts she’d only be back in town for the weekend, but Sansa felt incredibly grateful for even a small amount of time. She’d get to see one of her best friends for the first time in ages, and they’d get to spend the whole day catching up; she’d take a chance and give Highgarden a shot; and then, tomorrow night, she’d kiss Theon like he deserved.

Finally, everything seemed to be falling into place.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [gingersprites](gingersprites.tumblr.com), hit me up there for more of my bullshit!


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